Guilty pleasures
by AlwaysObviously
Summary: Two years after the final battle, Snape and Hermione are stuck together at Grimmauld Place. Dark secrets from the past will be revealed and resolved. SS/HG
1. Chapter 1

Hermione spread out the parchment carefully, running her fingers along the list written in her own neat handwriting. She smoothed out the corners, trying to ignore the oppressive atmosphere and the presence of the man on the other side of the room. She could feel distaste rolling off him in waves. She thought she could feel an occasional hateful stare on her back, but maybe her imagination was running wild. The big lump of guilt that sat in her stomach didn't help the whole affair, either. Why did she have to be stuck here, with him, of all people?

She never thought she would be back at Grimmauld Place. In the two years since Voldemort's death, she had been working hard on finishing her N.E.W.T.s, then had been offered a position at the Ministry of Muggle Affairs, a newly implemented branch of government. She had tried to bury the past and her traumatic experiences. Consequently, she did not really stay in touch with many of her old friends. Contact had withered and dried up to an occasional owl. Harry was the only one she still saw on a regular basis, if you could call it that. Her nights were still filled with nightmares of the battle at Hogwarts, but they were fewer now. She'd been to counselling sessions with a muggle therapist and worked out her problems as best as she could – as far as that was possible without revealing anything about magic, wizards, wands and the like.

She thought she had finally gotten her act together and then the past had come crashing back with force. Harry had turned up on her doorstep with tales of a remaining Death Eater faction. The last survivors that had fled to all corners of the globe after the battle appeared to have grouped together. There were whispers about a hidden artifact, of a rebellion, maybe a war to come.

The next thing she knew, she was back at Grimmauld Place, in a surreal atmosphere, surrounded by people from the past, planning how to best proceed with the upcoming rebellion. They were sitting together at the kitchen table, and it could have been a snapshot from three years ago, had it not been for the eyes that looked so much older, and for some seats that stayed empty. Still, Hermione cherished seeing her friends again. Suddenly having all of them together again had been a strange experience. After some first timid and slightly awkward hugs and embraces, they slowly slid into their old, easy friendship and bantering.

Even seeing Ron hadn't been so bad. After the final battle, they had tried for some weeks to make it work, but Hermione had been more than relieved when they had finally called it quits. They had been friendly but distant since, and in the last couple of months they had not seen or heard from each other at all. Still, she found she was happy to see him. He was one of her oldest and best friends, and they still could laugh together; although sometimes she found herself studying him, wondering what she had ever seen in him. His goofiness had been fun when she had been a teenager, but nowadays she had to suppress a cringe at some of his antics.

After a few days she had settled in comfortably and deeply enjoyed the company and the friendly routines of the household.

But then, again, her world had been upended. Aberforth Dumbledore had arrived in an aura of stealth and mystery, gathering them together in the library, having them swear to secrecy of what he was about to reveal to them. He gave them all stern, warning looks, and started speaking.

….

Hermione was only aware of the first half of his speech. Her body sat in shock, processing what it had just heard. Her brain had tuned out everything else that had come after that one vital piece of information – Severus Snape was alive! They had whisked him away into hiding after rescuing him from the Shrieking Shack, but the details had been droned out by the buzz in her head.

She was shaken out of her stupor by the sounds of scraping chairs and muffled goodbyes. She jumped up and tried to arrange her features into something that would not give away her inner turmoil.

"It'll be strange, don't you think?"

"Hmm?" Hermione turned to Harry, trying to focus on the here and now. "What's going to be strange?"

"Seeing Snape again after all that has happened. Living with him under one roof!"

Hermione's cup slipped from her hand, and she jerked clumsily to catch it before it hit the floor. "Living under one roof?!" She hoped the paniky, squeaky undertone of her voice was only part of her imagination.

Harry studied her, bemused. He tipped a finger on her forehead. "What is going on in there? I've never seen you not pay attention in a meeting. Snape is to arrive tomorrow. He'll be in hiding here at Grimmauld Place until further notice."

…

She had lain in bed that night, awake, wrecked by bouts of guilt and shame. In her fifth year in Hogwarts, she had done something horrible to Professor Snape. At the time, she had thought of it as a clever payback for his unfair behavior towards his students. If she was honest with herself, she had to admit it had been mostly payback for her own hurt pride and feelings. It had only been in her later years and growing maturity that she had understood the ruthless extent of what she had done. Her shame had grown by the day, and she had found herself unable to meet his eyes anymore. Not that he would have treated her with anything but indifference and distaste, anyway. The only time she had ever met his eyes purposely again had been when he had died in the Shrieking Shack – or so she had thought. And now she would have to meet him again – live under the same roof! Guilt was churning in her stomach worse than ever.


	2. Chapter 2

Severus Snape stood at the table in the makeshift potions labs at Grimmauld Place. His gaze wandered over the ingredients of a healing potion, neatly lined up next to his cauldron. It was nice to have a change of scenery. After two years of solitude, he could almost appreciate the company of others, even if most of them were presumptuous, inanely arrogant teenagers. Well, not teenagers, anymore. Young adults? Still, annoying all the same.

He might have let himself enjoy the current circumstances, had it not been for _her_. Of course she would have to be here. The heart and brains of the Golden Trio. The much celebrated Hermione Granger. Oh, if they knew the truth about her! What she had done to him. Of course, he couldn't prove it. She was clever, he had to give her that. Clever and cruel. There never was anything he could do about it when she had carried on for weeks and weeks. At the end, when her torture had finally stopped, he had ignored her as best as circumstances allowed and had been content with idea to never see her again after her graduation from Hogwarts.

He studied her back as she kept smoothing out the parchment where she had jotted down the different items and potions she wanted to assemble. They had been working in the same room for some time now, and she had always carefully turned her body aside so that she didn't need to meet his eyes. He had the distinct impression she was weighed down by guilt or unease, but whether that was because she felt truly ashamed for her actions or because he had gotten a glimpse of a dark side that proper Miss Granger did not like anyone knowing about, he didn't know.

When they had first seen each other after he had come to Grimmauld Place, she had greeted him with a resolute voice and determined stance, yet she still hadn't been able to meet his eyes, instead addressing the tip of his nose.

Indeed, now that he thought about it, her remorseful demeanor finally gave him the upper hand again. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad having to spend the day with her. He could make her squirm in unease, let her cook in her own miserable feelings, while she was stuck here with her assignment. He might just be able to get a little revenge. Suddenly, the day didn't seem so bleak anymore.

…..

Hermione gathered some supplies from the cabinets, carefully piling everything into her arms before unloading it at the table. While she arranged the items before her, she shot a glance towards Snape, who was intently concentrated on chopping the ingredients for his potion. He seemed changed, younger somehow. The shorter hair only added to the youthful illusion. It was just long enough so that the veil of raven hair kept his eyes from sight as he worked with his head bent. He still dressed as he always had, all black and buttoned up, only his billowing robes remained absent. Her gaze slid to his hands, working with fluid, elegant movements. Watching his hands was mesmerizing. A memory crept up, back from her fifth year at Hogwarts…

 _She was sitting in the potions dungeon, her chin propped up on one hand, her eyes following her potion professor's every move. Her heart beat faster at the sound of his rich, deep voice, and she had to suppress a sigh every time he swept by her table. She admired him and thought herself to be madly in love with the dark, mysterious teacher._

 _She put all of her efforts into Potions, putting in night shifts to read up on the subject, was able to answer any question he had had for the class – but the more she wanted to please him or get his attention, the more disgust he had for her. One day, he said something to her that was so hurtful that she had to dig her nails into her palms not to burst into tears in front of the whole class. She cried half of the night into her pillow and somewhere in the dark hours of the night, when the feelings in her stomach simmered down and turned cold, she had an epiphany. She would get revenge. Such a perfect, unprovable revenge._

 _..._

 _She was sitting in front of her potions books, pretending to read the text that Snape had just assigned, but all of her attention was gathered on getting the silent spell just right. She had practiced it a lot with Harry, but she still didn't know if and how well it worked exactly._

 _After Snape had called off Harry's Occlumency lessons, Hermione had been insistent that he kept practicing, and had been scouring the library for information. She had come across an old essay that dealt with a rare method of Legilimency, in which the Leglilimens is not searching inside the mind of another person, but sending an image instead. It had been used as a method for secret communication because it could be used over long distances. But as it took a lot of training, and easier devices for such purposes had been invented, the spell fell out of use and was forgotten. What made Hermione use it on Harry was that this method easily penetrated most shields and could only be blocked with utmost concentration and masterful skill. She had hoped by using the spell on Harry, his blocking skills might improve. With time, they had both improved. Not so much that Hermione stopped worrying about Harry, but enough to feel some smug satisfaction when he was able to block her mental picture of Crookshanks licking his private parts._

 _Now, she would use her honed skill for a masterful revenge. Hermione looked up to where Snape was standing, his back half turned to her, only part of his profile visible, gathering the supplies for the potion they were supposed to read about. She concentrated on her mental picture, calling it to the front of her mind, infusing it with color and sound. She pictured Snape at the table, but instead of handling ingredients, he was handling Hermione. Her naked body writhed on the table as he took her with abandon, his hands running over her sweat-slicked skin. She added some throaty moans for good measure and wrapped up the mental picture tightly before she released it with a silent spell towards Snape. She watched with satisfaction as he jerked, dropping a frog brain on the floor. She snapped her eyes back to her book before he could catch her watching him and pretended to be engrossed in her book. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched as he turned slowly, and only after a long while, in which she felt his eyes burning into her unruly mop of hair, he bent and gingerly picked the frog brain off the floor._


	3. Chapter 3

_She found the experience quite exhilarating. She knew she had to thread carefully, so she restricted her behavior in class to a reserved level, always ready to answer the questions asked but not showing any of her previous excessive enthusiasm. There was nothing he could pin on her. All the while, she plotted new scenes that she could use against him in unsuspecting moments._

 _She had bought some provocative black lace panties with a matching bra, and after she put it on, she stepped in front of the full-length mirror to dress. She thought of him while she studied herself, first the front view, then turned to get a good look at the back, committing everything to her memory, before stepping into her clothes._

 _It had been a week since she had sent that first mental picture, with the excitement of the experience carrying on for days. During the first lesson after the incident, he kept glancing her way, but soon seemed to put it out of his mind and carried on as if she didn't exist. She decided it was finally time for another try._

 _This time, the class was bent over a surprise Potions quiz. Hermione had easily been able to answer all questions, but had left the last one blank. Now she brought the memory of her body's reflection in the mirror to the front of her mind, satisfied with the way the black lace enhanced her growing curves. She wondered how his slender, calloused hands would feel running up and down her skin. She forced herself to concentrate on the spell before her thoughts started running wild. She looked towards Snape, who had his head bent over a parchment, scrawling vehemently, probably ripping apart some poor student's essay. She took a last look at the mental picture, then wrapped it up and sent it shooting towards Snape. The moment she released it, she dropped her hand to the last question, neatly composing the correct answer. She listened intensely while she wrote down the words, but she heard nothing coming from his table. The scratching of his quill had stopped and there was no sound coming from his desk_ _ _for a long time_. Then she heard a dry pop that sounded a lot like a quill being snapped in half. She didn't dare to look up. She busied herself proof-reading her answers until it was time to hand it in. _

_He didn't look up when she put her scroll on his desk, and she didn't know if she should feel relieved or disappointed. She went to pack up her things and turned to leave the room with Ron and Harry when an icy voice cut through the room. "Miss Granger, I need to speak with you."_

 _Ron and Harry turned, surprised, and shot her a worried look, lingering in the doorway._

 _Snape's cold eyes bore into them. "Potter, Weasley! Are you able to locate the next classroom on your own or should I call in assistance so you can have someone to hold your hands?"_

 _Hermione gave them what she hoped was a reassuring look and they hurried out of the door._

 _Professor Snape pulled up an uncomfortable looking wooden chair in front of his desk._

" _Sit."_

 _She arranged herself on the chair as best as she could, putting on an unsuspecting face and hoping he couldn't hear her heart racing in her chest. He strode behind his desk, his hands gripping the back of his chair as he towered over her. She met eyes that held a furious shimmer._

" _Sir?"_

" _You will stop this madness instantly."_

 _She felt adrenaline cursing through her body, and although there was a flutter of fear in her stomach, she knew he didn't have anything on her._

" _Professor Snape, what are you referring to?"_

 _She saw the torment in his eyes as he debated his options. He must have suspected that she had done it on purpose, by means of some spell or enchantment, but he was a man of science, and he knew that there was always a margin of error. If there was the slightest chance that she had not intentionally sent those pictures, he could not mention it out loud. He studied her while contemplating his next move. As his gaze slid over her shoulder, she noticed a tiny jerk in his fingers and the fingertips that gripped the back of his chair turned white. She looked up to meet his eyes, and for a fraction of a second she saw a strange look in them that she could not place before icy fury turned his eyes to dark holes._

" _I'm warning you, Miss Granger! That's all I'll say for now. Now get out!"_

 _She decided not to play her luck, so she slipped off the chair to and hurried out of the room. Outside, she leaned against the wall, her heart hammering in her chest. There had been such a strange atmosphere between them, and she had to think back to that look she had caught in his eyes. It was right after he had looked at her shoulder, she remembered. She turned her head to look what he might have seen there. Her top had shifted slightly, revealing the same black lace bra strap she had seen in her mirror._


	4. Chapter 4

_Severus Snape was pacing in his office, furious. How dare she sit there and pretend she knew nothing about it! He could still see her face, looking up at him with innocent eyes, but he knew, he just_ knew _that it could not have been a coincidence. It's not that he hadn't picked up on random students' thoughts before. But those glimpses had had a two-dimensional quality, and he had been able to block them instantly. A blessing, as he had no interest in the workings of imbecile minds._

 _This had been different. It was like a bubble had penetrated his mental shields, only to burst inside his brain, releasing a three-dimensional experience that felt more like a true memory than a simple mental picture. He had no idea how she had achieved this, but it was extraordinary magic, he had to give her that. Also, he had not been able to block her first attack at all. He had stood there, helpless, with his back to the class, as the whole episode had burned into his brain. His body had stood frozen, refusing to answer to any demands his brain had furiously tried to send, brimming with shock waves of adrenaline at the sight of the pictures in his mind. When he had finally been able to snap out of it, he had felt disgust. At his body, for betraying him in this moment of frozen shock with a physical response to the immoral mental picture, and even more so at Miss Granger, for subjecting him to this experience._

 _She had been a picture of innocence, engrossed in her reading, and for a moment he had wanted to doubt that she had done it on purpose. Still, the episode had been so different from anything else he had experienced before, that it could just not have been a coincidence._

 _When a few days had passed without further incident, he had started to relax, still suspicious but not knowing what to make of the occurrence. He had tried to put it out of his mind, as he had enough problems to deal with already, and he didn't need anything else on his plate._

 _Only a few days later, while the students had been working over a surprise quiz that had left the whole class whining in protest – well, except for Granger, of course – she had launched her second attack. At the time, he had been focused on wasting his valuable time on some dimwit's essay, when he had felt the bubble burst in his mind. There she was, in front of a mirror, in a black nothing of French lace that hugged her slender body, framed by rioting curls. He had instantly tried to fight against the picture, but it had felt like running in quicksand. The episode had seemed to run slower then, but still he hadn't been able to end it. Granger had studied her body in the mirror, and his eyes had been forced to take the same path hers had taken, roving over her body, and he had fought harder against the quicksand, slowing the episode even more. Just before it had stuttered and finally blinked out of existence, he had gotten a last glimpse of how Granger had turned around, running a finger under the black lace of the panties, adjusting the slim black strap on her hips._

 _Fighting against the mental image had left him drained and exhausted, but before he could slump in his chair, fury had overtaken him and had given him more than enough energy. So much, in fact, that he had broken his favorite quill._

 _When he had questioned her afterwards, she had pretended not to know what he was talking about, while knowing full and well that there was nothing he could do about it. She had picked the one thing – the only thing! – that could hit him where it truly hurt. He had seen and done a lot of depraved things in this life, but deep inside, he still held on to a last bit of what a fool might call 'honor', a certain line of morals that he wouldn't cross, and she was forcing him towards crossing that line._

 _Never in his life had he entertained thoughts or fantasies about any of his students. It would have been completely inappropriate, and he had never felt tempted in the slightest way. But now Miss Granger had forced herself on him, and although he had had no problem setting aside the images of the first attack, the images of the second seemed to linger on a deeper level. They seemed more real, in a way, with more subtleties. And he couldn't shake the notion that she had thought about_ him _while studying herself in the mirror._

 _He shoved these thoughts aside and tried to concentrate on his work, but that night, he dreamt of her. She walked into the empty Potions lab where he was working, and as he looked up to meet her eyes, she slipped out of her robes and glided towards him, clad in skimpy black lace. With fluent moves, she unclasped her bra, stepped out of her panties and slid onto his desk. She beckoned him over, her pupils wide and her eyes dark with desire. He stepped between her legs, and she took his hand and slowly pulled it towards her left breast. Just before his palm came into contact with her heated skin, he woke up._

 _He had to suppress a wave of nausea at the sight of the bulge under his sheets. He fled to the bathroom to splash some cold water on his face, then rested his forehead on the cool wall. Why was she doing this to him? She must be aware of what it did to him, how it compromised his position, robbed him of his concentration, screwed with his life. What ulterior motive did she have? Did the Golden Trio need him to focus his attention elsewhere while they were planning yet another asinine mission? What could be so important to Granger that she had decided to stoop that low? Of course, her choice of subject was brilliant and cruel in itself. Without perfect proof, which could never exist, he could never confide to anyone what she had done._

 _He was astounded at her coldness. She obviously favored that red-haired dunderhead, and vice versa, so he was certain that those mental images of hers displayed nothing of her true desires. It must have cost her a lot of willpower to imagine herself in these situations. His thoughts kept circling back to her motives. How long would he have to endure this?_


	5. Chapter 5

_Hermione was sitting on her bed, looking off into the distance, replaying her encounter with Snape in her head. Although she remembered the fear that had shot through her, what remained was the excitement of their confrontation. She knew she had the upper hand in their game. After all that time of his snide, sneering remarks down his rather large nose, it was more than satisfying to be on equal footing now._

 _As much as she wanted to revel in her revenge, she realized that she should not carry on like this. It wasn't appropriate, and she had gone far enough. Still, there were so many scenarios she had dreamt up in her mind. Maybe she could pick an innocent one, just as a little way of saying good-bye. She flipped though her bountiful collection of steamy daydreams, finally settling on one of her go-to favorites. She pictured the school grounds, the spot where he was supervising the closing of the gates on Friday evenings._

 _ **Dream-Snape is standing close to the wall of the castle in his trademark imposing manner, scanning the school grounds. Dream-Hermione walks up the path and approaches him. She stands in front of him and tilts her head up to look into his eyes.  
"Professor Snape, I was wondering if I might ask you a question about the Draught of the Living Death?"  
His eyes look thunderous. "For Merlin's sake, Granger, don't you have any other means of diversion besides bothering your professors even outside their classrooms?!"  
Dream-Hermione looks at him, slightly affronted: "Of course I do, Sir."  
"Then why don't you go and pursue those?"  
Dream-Hermione steps closer, so close she can smell the delicious aroma of herbs and sandalwood drifting up from his robes. Her fingers trace the row of buttons up his chest, then slide around his neck to tangle in his hair. "There is something I have wanted to pursue for a long time" she whispers before closing the distance between their lips. She brushes her lips over his, softly, waiting for his response. She slides out the tip of her tongue and traces his lower lip.  
Dream-Snape releases a harsh breath and pulls her closer, their warm bodies pressing together as they passionately deepen their kiss.**_

 _A blush spread on Hermione's cheeks at the thought of this scene replaying in Snape's head. This time, she didn't want it to be in public. The other scenarios were wild fantasies, and were meant to smart, to upset him, but this scene was something that left her tingling because it seemed so realistic (and because, sometimes, in her daydreams, she had taken it to the next level). Not that she ever thought Professor Snape would fancy a school girl, especially an insufferable little know-it-all, but it was nice to imagine that maybe in his private rooms, unobserved, he might enjoy this little fantasy, too. Her heart sped up as she pictured him lying in his bed, reading some old tome, when it hit him. What would his reaction be when no one observed him?_

 _She had tried the spell long distance once or twice with Harry before (she figured the spell would probably not have a more powerful effect over long distance than if they were in the same room, so they had continued practicing with the direct method), and she had sent him an image from Hagrid's hut to the Gryffindor common room, so she knew she could send it far enough, even if she didn't know how well it worked in the end._

 _She looked at the clock. It was late enough for most students to be in bed, and she figured that Snape must be in his private quarters, either finishing up some school work or getting ready for bed. This was as good a time as any._

 _She reclined on her bed, trying to relax and focus on the task ahead. It was a complex scene to send, as it included a dialogue and covered a longer period of time than any of her other images before. She contemplated the right way to send it. With a short scene, she had imagined the spell as a bubble that she shot towards the recipient. As she tried to stuff the new scene into the bubble, it wobbled and collapsed. There was too much of it._

 _When she had first started practicing with Harry, she had tried different methods, but found the bubble to be the most satisfying. Now, though, she thought back to the channel that she had tried in the beginning. It had cost her a lot more energy than the bubble, so she had switched, but the results in terms of effect on Harry had been equally good._

 _She replayed the detailed scene in her head – she had spent a_ lot _of time thinking about it in the last few months – then thought of Snape and opened the channel with the spell. She played out the scene in her head while sending it, dragging their heated kiss out as long as she could before she collapsed on the bed, all spent. She felt the first icy pricks of a migraine crawling up her spine, but luckily, sleep overtook her._


	6. Chapter 6

_Severus Snape was sitting on his couch, his Legillimens book collection piled around him. There must be some clue as to how Granger had achieved this, he thought. He had been combing through his books in fruitless search of a spell, a method, anything. There had to be a way to counter her spell. Maybe it was time to extend his research to the library. That's where little Miss Granger had gotten most of her knowledge, so maybe that was the place to go._

 _He was about to rise when something hit him full blast. He collapsed on the couch, flooded with a torrent of energy that slipped into his mind as if his shields were made of ephemeral smoke, opening a gate to a flood of pictures._

 _He saw himself, standing at the castle wall, trying not to roll his eyes at the moronic chitchat of teenage students floating over from the gates. He saw her approaching and realized this must be another one of Granger's spells. But this one was different, it had no sexual undertone. Relieved, but wary, he let it play out unhindered._

 _Of course, he thought, that girl would never leave out a chance to ask more pestering questions, even in her dreams! He observed as Dream-Snape told her off. It was something he very well could have said so himself. He gave a short, satisfied nod._

 _But then it all went wrong. Somehow, she had twisted his words and stepped up to him, running her fingers up his chest. Oh, he knew it was not real, it was not really_ his _chest, but it felt as if her fingers were truly trailing up his body._

 _Dream-Granger looked different somehow – older, more developed. Granger seemed to have treated her dream-self to an increase in age as well as in bust, he noted, against all his intentions. Her fingers had reached his neck, and a hot shower of goosebumps raced down his spine. She lifted her face to his, and his heart stopped in his chest as her soft lips pressed against his. And then her tongue… Snape started to fight, pushing hard against the images. They ran slower._

 _He realized that fighting it had been a bad idea. Now he was kissing her in slow motion, his hands running up and down her soft body. A hot, tingling sensation started in his stomach and spread outwards towards his chest, making him feel like a teenager kissing his first love. Why did this affect him so much?  
Just as he thought he would drown in those images, the connection was suddenly severed. _

_He fell back, panting. It took several minutes for him to catch his breath. Unable to deal with the conflicting emotions and thoughts boiling inside his body, he pulled out a sleeping potion and treated himself to a long, dreamless sleep._

 _When he woke up in the morning, he felt dizzy and disoriented. He went into the shower, turning the water cold, letting the icy rivulets run over his body. When his thoughts cleared, he recalled what had happened the evening before. His stomach twisted, not in an uncomfortable way, at the thought. He was astonished at his reaction. The first two memories had left him feeling like a lecherous, disgusting old man, but this – the fantasy about the mature Granger – had left him feeling… less disgusting. That's as far as he allowed himself to think in that regard. There was no way to jump in time. She was still a little girl, his student, for Merlin's sake. Besides, even when one day she were no longer his student, she still wouldn't want to engage with an old, repulsive former professor. She was going to have her pick of men in the world, and he would never be on that list. Although why that red haired dunderhead was residing on the top of her list, he could not fathom, either._

 _The next time they saw each other was in his Potions class. Waiting for the class to arrive, he had felt restless and uneasy because he couldn't shake his emotional response to her last image spell. When the students finally filed into the classroom, he was relieved. When he saw her, it was just Miss Granger, his pesky little student. She wasn't that sensual woman he had seen in his mind. Locking those thoughts away, he concentrated on the lesson._

 _Days went by without further incident. Then it was Friday evening, and he stood at the castle wall overlooking the school grounds. The rays of the setting sun were filtering through the clouds, basking everything in a golden light. His gaze was wandering over the students passing through the gates when he spotted a familiar mane of bushy hair. She was walking up the path towards him, just like she had done in the dream. Against all his best intentions, his heart picked up a pace. With the sun at her back, she was only a dark silhouette, ageless. When she came closer, he could finally see her face clearly, and again he was flooded with relief that her teenage features did not provoke the same feelings as her mature countenance._

 _Still, he couldn't keep from holding his breath when she stepped up to him. Would she actually dare and ask him about the Draught of the living Death? She looked up into his eyes, and he saw a flash of emotion – fear, excitement? – before she gave him a tight smile and a nod. "Professor" she said, inclining her head in acknowledgement before walking away towards the castle._

"Miss Granger."

A deep, reserved baritone voice shook Hermione out of her musings. She spun around, shocked by his closeness. His scent washed over her, and she felt her knees weaken in response. Damn. After all these years, he was still able to melt her into a puddle with just the sound of his voice. She slowly raised her eyes to his, but with the sensual memories that had just played through her mind, she found she was unable to look further than the tip of his nose.

"You're blocking the way to the cabinet. I'm in need of some Sopophorous beans."

"Of course! My apologies." She said, flustered, stepping to the side, unable to stop watching him as he perused the shelves in search of the right jar. He located the beans, pulled out the jar and turned to walk towards his table. Then he seemed to reconsider, and he turned towards her.

"Miss Granger, if you might allow me to remark upon an observation I have made: It seems to me as if you have developed an unhealthy obsession with the tip of my nose. Is there something peculiar about it or is this just some strange habit of yours? Or might the reason be that you are unable to meet my eyes because of a certain guilt you've been carrying around?"

Hermione stood frozen, overwhelmed by shock and anxiety. This was it. They were finally going to talk about it. Hot flashes raced through her body as she desperately tried to clear her thoughts and formulate a response. She took a deep breath.


	7. Chapter 7

She wanted to speak, but no words came out. He kept looking at her expectantly, while she felt a crimson blush spreading on her cheeks. How could she ever tell him that she had been madly in love with him, and so hurt by his scathing rejection that she had stooped to a childish and reckless vengeance? What would he think of her? She had always been a model student, attentive, caring and, most of all, sensible. What she had done was her big, dark, shameful secret. It was bad enough he had seen those images – Merlin, Hermione, he's seen you naked! What were you thinking?! – but she couldn't just talk to him about any details. But then again, she wouldn't need to do that to apologize.

"Professor Snape, I… umm… there are no words to say how sorry I am. I cannot possibly explain my reasons to you, but I can tell you that I have never been as ashamed of anything I have done in my life as much as I am ashamed of what I have done to you. I hope, one day, you might be able to…. forgive me." She really had wanted to meet his eyes during her speech, but shame had weighed her down so much that this time, she had fallen even short of the tip of his nose and had instead apologized to a fabric covered button on his chest.

She let out a deep breath when she had finished, and waited for him to speak. He didn't.  
The silence stretched out, becoming uncomfortable. She fumbled with her hands, then slowly forced her gaze upwards, button by button. Her courage almost left her at the tip of his nose, but finally, she looked into his eyes for the first time in years.

They looked thunderous, fierce and furious. Although she knew she should probably cower in fear, her body decided to counter the flight command of her subconscious with unloading a mass of butterflies into her belly. Oh, his eyes… she had forgotten how much she loved his eyes. Before she could make an utter fool out of herself, Snape's sharp response snapped her out of her reverie.

"That's it, Miss Granger?! After all these weeks of torment that you have put me through, you just expect me to forgive you without you giving me any explanation? I hadn't thought you a fool."

Hermione sputtered: "Weeks of torment? I know it was unforgivable, but still… it was only three times…" She felt like an idiot saying that. She was about to concede that he was right, when he interrupted her thoughts.

"Four times."

She blinked at him, astonished. "No, believe me, I know for a fact that it was only three times. Maybe you picked up on some other student's thoughts."

He advanced on her, menacing. "Believe you me, Miss Granger. Four times. I know for a fact that each one of them was you."

"I do trust my memory, Professor Snape. I would know if I had done it a fourth time!"

He squinted at her. "So you are confident that you are in possession of all of your memories of the last night before leaving for summer break?"

The night before leaving for summer break? What had she been doing? She tried to remember the end of her fifth year, thankful that her brain was such a reliable machine that usually spilled out the facts that she requested with ease.

The Gryffindor Girls Pajamas Party! her brain supplied. Remember how all of the girls had gotten together and gossiped and talked about which boys they liked and if they had kissed anyone yet? They had stuffed themselves on sweets, one rather large package being liqueur filled chocolate candy. That had been Hermione's first real experience with intoxication. She remembered the mad giggles, laughing until tears came to her eyes, before finally, she had stumbled off into the direction of her bedroom and then… nothing. The concentrated as hard as she could, but everything after that remained blank, her memories picking up the next morning.

"Oh…" was all that Hermione could manage. And then it dawned on her. She must have done something in her intoxicated state, sent him another image. And probably not one of the timid ones, either. Oh, no! Oh no, no, no! This just couldn't be true.


	8. Chapter 8

"What was it?" she croaked, horrified.

Snape gave her a smug look. "Seeing as you won't provide me with the information I seek, why should I tell you? Aside from that, it isn't really anything I would ever feel comfortable to discuss." With that, he swept over to his table, leaving her to stew in her feelings.

She stood there, frozen, as waves and waves of possible scenarios washed over her. Which fantasy had she picked? What had he seen? She needed to know! But the thought of him recounting one of her more than steamy daydreams was more than she could bear. Her cheeks were starting to glow.

She had thought she would feel better after finally apologizing to him. As it turned out, she felt worse. She looked at him as he picked some beans out of the jar, neatly arranging them on his cutting board. He deserved an explanation. She couldn't paint him the whole picture, but she could try as best as she could.

"Sir – Professor Snape. It is true, you deserve an explanation. It's just that it was for such a childish and infantile reason. My reaction was vindictive and rash. I'm not usually like that."

"Not vindictive and rash, hm? I distinctly remember a story from your third year about your right fist having rearranged Malfoy's features. Also, you're my top suspect in the fire incident with my robes in your very first year at Hogwarts. Just to name a few. I have more."

"Yes, well, true. But I had a good reason for those."

"And for this, you did not have a good reason?"

"Not really, no. I mean, of course there was a reason, a cause, but I should never have done this. I don't know why I did it. It's just that you had been so mean to me that year, and there was this one time…"

He looked at her expectantly: "Go on."

"Well, you said something to me that was so mean, so… destructive to my ego that I cried my heart out. And then all I could think about was getting revenge on you."

He frowned at that, contemplating. "I admit I had been rather harsh to you in class. And it's not as if I hadn't been on the receiving end of some vindictive trick of a student before. It's just…" He averted his gaze at this. "…it must have cost you a lot of willpower to imagine yourself in such… scenes with someone you find rather repulsive. That, indeed, doesn't seem like something you would do."

"Well…" she hedged "…and I haven't really done that, actually."

He gave her a reprimanding look. "Miss Granger, I think we are both exactly aware of the content of those scenes and who thought them up."

"Yes, and I do not deny the content. I deny the part about finding you repulsive." She took a deep breath, deciding that if she had gone that far, she could go all the way. "It's quite the opposite, actually."

He looked at her, obviously confused. "You mean to tell me that you actually enjoyed having to think up some lewd scenario involving me?"

"No, I am telling you I enjoyed choosing one of the pre-existing scenarios of my rather large Potions Professor Daydream collection."

She watched him as he leaned back against the table, comprehension dawning in his eyes. She held her breath. Finally, she had told him about her feelings. She had thought she might die of shame, but now, that she had spoken it out loud, she had found it to be a strangely liberating experience. It was as if a burden had been lifted from her shoulders.

She stepped up to him, slowly, carefully, placing her palm on his chest. She looked up into his eyes, gauging his reaction. They were widened in surprise, a spark of something there that made her heart clench in her chest. But as soon as it had appeared, it was gone. She could see his inner walls coming up, his eyes turning cold.

"Miss Granger, as much as I might like to believe that, I just can't. The whole idea is more than absurd." With that, he strode from the room.

…

Severus Snape was pacing the length of his bedroom, unable to stop himself from replaying his conversation with Miss Granger over and over again in his head. She had seemed so sincere, and he wanted to believe her, but he just couldn't fathom how she could ever be attracted to him. He really had been unfair to her in class, squashing her enthusiasm with hostile remarks. He had always ruled his classroom by intimidation and fear, which had proven to result in a comparably low accident rate and better overall test results – also, it agreed with his personality. He had not known how to deal with this pair of amber eyes, shining with admiration and overflowing enthusiasm. So he had crushed her with his remarks to get her in line. Looking back, that probably had not been a wise decision.

Consequently, she probably had had no reason to be fond of him in any way. His physical attributes didn't help the overall score, either. He was aware of how he was perceived by most of his students, most of all of the gossip about his greasy hair – not that it really bothered him; the work as a Potions Master required the exposure to all kinds of fumes that did nothing for the overall state of your hair. It was the price to pay for high quality work. Although his face suited him just fine – well, a different nose wouldn't have hurt – no one would ever think him handsome. Not to mention the age difference. So what in all of the world did she see in him?

Hermione Granger, on the other hand, he thought, was the epitome of what any man could wish for: she had a sharp and keen mind, she was compassionate, caring, and, he had to admit, had quite an agreeable sense of humor. She was courageous to a fault, always putting the needs of others before her. And, of course, she was beautiful. As much as he tried not to think of her in these terms, he couldn't help himself.

After the battle, when he had been hiding away in Aberforth's secret cottage, he had finally allowed himself to think about that one scenario involving the Draught of the Living Death. The other three he had buried, and hadn't had any problems not returning to those. But that kiss... that was another matter altogether. The mature Granger had followed him in his dreams, teased him, all through Granger's 6th year. He tried as best as he could to ignore them, although sometimes his body betrayed his intentions. The dreams had reduced in frequency, and he had thought they had finally left for good, but when he had spent those two years in solitude, they had returned with fervor.

And at that time, she had no longer been his student. She thought him dead, and they would never meet again. So he had allowed himself to dwell on those images of their kiss. There was always this spark, this memory of how he had felt when she played the daydream to him. That hot, tingling sensation that had spread through his body in waves had been incredible. He didn't know if he had ever felt anything like that before. He didn't think so.

And then, when he had seen her again at Grimmauld Place, it had been like a punch to his stomach. All of these emotions had swamped him, and he didn't know how to deal with them. Luckily, Miss Granger had ignored him as best as circumstances allowed and so he had found the time to ponder the whole debacle. Her seemingly averse reaction to his presence had led him to conclude that there'd be no chance in hell she might ever consider him in a romantic way, so he had shut down his feelings and locked them away. He fell into his old behavior around her and he was able to cope with the whole situation a lot better than he had thought.

Now she had opened Pandora's box, and his feelings were again churning in his stomach. Oh, how he wanted to believe her. But his mind was set on insisting this was in no way possible. Torn between conflicting emotions, he decided that maybe he should sleep on it and see if he might come to any conclusion in the morning.


	9. Chapter 9

Hermione pulled the blankets up to her chin, trying to find a comfortable position in her bed, but no matter which way she stretched, she just couldn't seem to find any rest. Her thoughts kept circling back to Snape, and that look he had given her when she had put her hand on his chest. For a moment there, she had believed he might have some feelings for her, too, but the moment had gone by so fast, she couldn't really be sure.

She wished she had the courage to go to him, yet she knew if he rejected her again, she wouldn't have it in her heart to try again. Maybe it was better to wait.

Or she could send him an image, she thought. That way, she could show him that she was interested without having to fear his immediate rejection.

She mused about what kind of scenario she would send him. In the end, she decided on a simple kiss. A small one, just the brush of her lips on his, maybe lingering a bit, but more an invitation than a request.

She set the scene in the makeshift lab, with Snape sitting at the table, bent over a parchment, his quill scratching. As she pictured the scene, she realized she wanted to tell him something before she kissed him. She wanted him to know that her feelings for him had never really left, that her knees still turned weak when he walked by. That she enjoyed his company, for his wits and his wonderfully dry sense of humor, that with him, despite all the emotional turmoil, she had somehow felt at ease in quiet moments working side by side in their lab. There was so much that she wanted to tell him.

She definitely needed to use the channel.

She felt excitement bubble in her stomach as she prepared herself for the spell. She imagined Snape in the lab and herself walking through the door as she started the spell.

 _Dream-Hermione approached the desk behind which Dream-Snape was scribbling notes on a parchment. She took a deep breath: "Professor Snape-"  
But before she could utter another word, she was interrupted by a steely voice: "I hadn't thought you would dare to ever insert yourself into my mind again." Snape had raised his head, his black eyes pinning her down. _

_Hermione gasped. He had somehow taken some control over her spell. She could feel his magic battling against hers, the flows of energy pushing against each other in a mad dance. She still commanded the actions of her own image, but Snape's was out of her control._

" _Did you think I wouldn't find out what spell you had used? Did you think I wouldn't make sure nobody could be doing this to me ever again?" he stood up, glaring at her, looking furious._

 _It was fascinating to see him like this, just like the real thing, while she was communicating with him in her mind. It was an extraordinary experience. She wondered about the limits of the spell. She stepped closer to the desk, where his hands were resting on the surface. She touched the back of his left hand, running her fingers over his skin, feeling the fine black hairs under her fingertips. He looked at her, irritated and confused at her strange reaction._

" _This feels so real" she whispered. She brushed her thumb over the fabric of his shirt cuffs. "My sense of touch believes this is real. I wonder if this applies to all of the senses." She stepped closer, her hand trailing up his arm towards his shoulder. He stiffened, but he didn't pull away. When she had reached his neck, she pulled the collar of his shirt aside, pressing her lips to his skin, slipping out her tongue to taste the salt on his skin._

 _He groaned: "Hermione."_

 _Hot flashes raced through her body at the sound of his voice saying her name. She wanted him so much right now. She cupped his cheek with her hand and pulled him towards her, eager to finally get that kiss she had fantasized about. He didn't resist, and she pushed herself up on her toes to meet his descending lips._

With a snap that rocked her mind, the connection broke and she was back on her bed, all her energy spent, panting in exhaustion and utter frustration. She had been so close!

…

Severus Snape woke after a night of exhausted, dreamless sleep. Immediately he was swamped by memories of their shared experience in the night. At first he had been furious that she had dared to use the spell again, but then she had touched his hand. And that tingling sensation had started in his stomach, eager to take root, preparing to unfurl. Her fingers had left a trail of fire on his arm, and when she had kissed his neck, and he had felt the movement of her tongue on his skin, the tingling sensation had exploded into an inferno that had raced through his body. He had decided to throw caution to the wind and allow himself to really believe that she wanted him. He had bent to kiss her, holding his breath, and then – the connection had snapped and he had lain on his bed, too exhausted to even lift a finger.

He was sure that the connection had broken because both of their energy had been spent, but a small nagging voice in the back of his head kept insisting that maybe, she had gotten a case of cold feet.

He showered and dressed in his usual ensemble, dreading to meet her at the breakfast table, when all her friends would be present and watching. He wanted to speak with her privately, to gauge her reaction to last night's events. He slipped into the kitchen, pouring himself a cup of tea, but felt too nervous to eat anything. Not that he wanted to sit with them anyways.

Hermione was at the table, flanked by her ever-present side-kicks, while others, nearly all of them former students, occupied most of the other seats at the table, devouring eggs and toast. Hermione's attention had been captured by Harry, who was filling her in on the events of the previous day.

She seemed to feel his gaze on her, though, and lifted her eyes to meet his. Her gaze turned warm, a smile curling the corners of her lips. He concentrated on breathing properly and maintaining a stern face. Still, he raised one eyebrow just a fraction of an inch, giving a minuscule nod towards the door, inviting her to join him in the lab. Her smile turned into a joyful grin, and with a small, inconspicuous gesture, she tapped on her watch and indicated she'd be along in five minutes. He turned and strode out of the room before he lost control of the grin that wanted to spread on his face.

 **A/N: I've been trying to include the content of the fouth image spell, but it turns out to be harder than expected. Snape simply refuses to talk about it and Hermione is no great help in that regard, either. We'll have to wait and see.**

 **A big thank you to Zaubernuss for stepping in as my beta, as well as helping me out with tricky HP canon questions I might have ;)  
**


	10. Chapter 10

Hermione opened the door to the lab, brimming with a strange mix of excitement and anxiety. Last night's experience had felt like a dream, though she knew it had been real to both of them. That almost-kiss had not left her mind since she had woken up that morning. She closed the door behind her, resisting the urge to lock it. Gathering all of her courage, she looked up to his table to meet his eyes.

His face was unreadable, his eyes conveying too many emotions for her to properly process. They stood there, studying each other, none of them daring to make the first move. She knew she had to say something, not to let this moment pass, but all the things she had planned on telling him during the spell now sounded stilted to her ears. She thought of Ginny, and how she had just flung herself at Harry and kissed him right there in front of everyone in the Gryffindor common room. She wished it could be that easy. But Severus Snape was not someone you ran up to and kissed as if the world was about to end. He was a volatile potion that you needed to handle with care.

She stepped closer, pulling herself together, and finally said the only thing that came to her mind that didn't sound completely off. She hoped he would understand what she was really asking him. "Professor Snape, I was wondering if I might ask you a question about the Draught of the Living Death?"

She held her breath, watching his reaction. A small twitch lifted a corner of his lips before he replied smoothly: "Don't you have any other means of diversion besides bothering your former professors?"

He remembered! The pace of her heartbeat doubled. Those were, essentially, the same words he had used in their conversation of the scenario with their kiss that she had sent him in her fifth year at Hogwarts. She couldn't contain a smile as she replied, following the original script of their conversation: "Of course I do, Sir."

He looked at her, an answering smile forming on his lips that reached the dark pools of his eyes. "Then why don't you go and pursue those?"

She waited for him to kiss her, but he just stood there with this most unsnapelike look on his face. If this hadn't been Severus Snape, she would have thought it to be something along the lines of tenderness.

She wanted him so much, and he must have known that, but still, he was forcing her to make the first move. But then again, she deserved it, after all she had put him through. Besides, nothing could be more embarrassing than that first scenario she had sent him in her foolish teens. Maybe except for that fourth one she had sent him in her drunken stupor, whatever that might have been (Oh Merlin, what if she never found out? Oh - What if she found out and it was excruciatingly embarrassing? Oh, no!).

She pushed those thoughts aside and slowly raised her hand to place it on his chest, feeling the row of buttons under her fingertips. His expression didn't change as he kept looking at her, though maybe the smile that played along his lips might have twitched a bit. Damn him for making this so hard on her!

In the end, she followed the lead of her daydream, running her fingers up his chest, sliding them into the silky strands of jet black hair at the back of his neck. She pushed up on her toes to finally touch her lips to his. They were soft but firm, hesitantly accepting her probing mouth. Still inspired by her daydream, she slid out her tongue and ran it along his lower lip, tasting him, and just like in her dream, he gasped at that. Finally, he started to return the kiss – very gentle and restrained at first, then slowly starting to grow bolder, sliding his hands around her waist.

She molded herself to him, drawing him closer. She was only dimly aware of the small sounds of desire that escaped her, as the blood rushing in her ears drowned out most of what she was hearing. The places where he rested his hands on her hips felt as if they were on fire, her skin tingling, and she found herself wishing they would start moving, caressing the sensitive parts of her body that were in desperate need of attention. It was as if floodgates had been opened on her desire, and she felt her control slip. All she could think about were his hands, his lips, his tantalizing smell and the incredible sensations that ran through her body every time their tongues touched. She didn't ever want to stop. But in the end, he took care of that.

One of his hands slid up her spine in a deliciously slow pace, leaving goosebumps in its wake, and finally slid up to cradle her cheek. He ended the kiss, slowly, brushing his mouth a last time along her lower lip. They looked at each other, dazed, and Hermione was glad to notice that he seemed just as out of breath as herself.

…..

And then he blinked, and she could see his expression slide, watched in horror as his inner walls started to come up. _Oh, no! Don't you dare!_ she thought fiercely.  
A small frown started to build on this forehead, and she knew, she just _knew_ he was about to reject her. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Well, this was highly inappropriate."

She felt her heart being squeezed in a vice crafted out of hurt and frustration. "Are you telling me you think this…" she waved a hand between them "…was a mistake?!"

"Miss Granger…"

She gave an impatient little sigh. "I thought we were at 'Hermione'."

He gave her a small smile, then, that carried a nuance of melancholy. "It is a long and winding road to 'Hermione'. I am very sorry if I have raised certain expectations in you concerning…" he waved a hand between them. "…this."

She looked at him then, and knew his apprehensive expression was a direct result of the fury she could feel burning in her own eyes. "If you think I am just going to let this go, you're very mistaken!" she ground out, then turned and stormed out of the room before she could give in to temptation and send a canary attack on him via Oppugno Jinx.


	11. Chapter 11

Hermione sat on her bed, fuming. How could he do this to her? One moment, they had been locked together as one, sharing an incredibly passionate experience – her fingers moved to her lips, still slightly swollen, and again butterflies were unloaded in her stomach – and in the next instant, he had put on his impenetrable mask and had morphed into Professor Snape, her remote former teacher.

She wanted to break through the walls he had so carefully built around him, but she knew she could not accomplish that by force. She had to play _his_ game if she wanted to succeed. She reclined on her bed and pondered the situation. Harry had called a meeting which was to take place in the library after dinner where Snape would be present, too. She would use the time until then to come up with a plan. Or at least to think of a way to keep her friends from noticing that she was a crazed vortex of madness, confusion and need. If she faced Snape right now, she'd probably incinerate him with her stare by the sheer force of her fury. Or desire. Probably both. She sighed heavily, although her mood rather called for screaming in frustration. This man! This impossible man!

...

After several attempts of some sort of calm and serene meditation, Hermione decided her state of inner peace was as good as it was going to get. It was time for the meeting, anyways. She walked down the stairs and slipped into the library.

Most of the current inhabitants of Grimmauld Place were already in attendance. Ron, Harry and Ginny lounged on the couch, while Kingsley Shacklebolt reclined in an old, tattered armchair. Snape had chosen to sit next to the fireplace, which gave him the best outlook over the room. He met her eyes and acknowledged her with a small but wary smile. He quickly settled back into a distant, neutral expression as his gaze kept sweeping over the room, focused on the snippets of conversation. She tried not to feel hurt at his quick dismissal. She knew he could not have given her more than that in front of a room full of people even if he had wanted to. Still, she wouldn't let him off the hook quite so easily.

Hermione checked her seating options, delighted to find a small ottoman in a corner that would allow her to observe the room, but also seated her slightly behind Snape, so that she would be able to study his profile while he would have to turn his head to look at her.

She walked over to the ottoman and sat with her back against the wall, pulling her legs up and under her. When she had settled in comfortably, the door creaked open once more and spilled three people into the room. Neville, Luna and Aberforth settled onto the second couch, and everyone turned to Harry expectantly.

He had never asked to be the leader of what remained of the Order of the Phoenix, but somehow, he had moved – or rather had been moved – into that position quietly but inevitably over the last few months. After the war, the Order had been scattered, and when the first whispers of a Death Eater rebellion had reached their ears, it had been Harry they had turned to, and it had been Harry who had sought out the rest of the remaining members of the Order and ask them to come join their forces once more. He had again offered up Grimmauld Place as a base.

Harry had once asked Aberforth if he would be willing to take over, as he had already been heavily involved in the whole affair by hiding Snape away, but the reply that he had gotten was that "merry twinkling and manipulation of others for the greater goal" had been traits unique to his brother and he had no wish to do more than participate. So again, the hard work had fallen to Harry.

Harry stood up and started speaking, outlining the events of the previous months. Hermione already knew everything Harry knew, so she let her thoughts, and consequently her gaze, wander to Snape. Although he, too, must have already been briefed on all aspects of the situation, he still held his gaze fixed on Harry in concentration. She could not see all of his profile, but she could make out the slight frown that seemed to be a permanent feature of his face. It was very endearing in its own way. His whole snarky and irritable behavior, she realized, no longer bothered her. Indeed, it almost was the other way around. When he sometimes snapped at one of her friends in the kitchen, she had to work very hard on suppressing a smirk. He kind of had his own charm going there. It made her want to get up and ruffle his hair and tease him and grab him by the coat to kiss him and then…

Snape's head snapped around, and he pierced her with his stare. He had always been very sensitive to attention focused on his person. He seemed to have a six sense in that regard, which was proven again by him catching her staring at him now. She tried not to show any emotion as she raised one of her eyebrows just a fraction of an inch, giving a miniscule nod with her chin in the direction of the door, inviting him to leave the meeting with her. She registered a short flash of bafflement at her audacity in his reaction, which somehow gave her an intense sense of satisfaction. She telegraphed with her eyes that she intended to do wicked things to him if he left with her now.

Of course, she never intended to do that and they both knew it, but it was the game and for once, she was winning. She could see it in the spark of irritation that crossed his eyes before he turned his head to focus on what was being said. Hermione's smirk deepened.


	12. Chapter 12

Hermione focused her attention back on the group who had started discussing the mysterious artefact. Kingsley spoke up: "So we know that Dolohov is in possession of this device, but we don't know its exact purpose?"

"I'm not even sure if they are completely aware of what it does." Harry replied thoughtfully. "We only have rumors to go on, but as it seems, Voldemort had it hidden away for decades and none of the Death Eaters have ever seen it face-to-face."

Everyone in the room turned to Snape, regarding him expectantly. Severus gave a deep sigh. "No, I haven't seen it either. And if he hasn't shown me, I doubt anyone else has seen it. I don't believe that Lucius had more of his trust than I had. Not that it matters, as I haven't seen a trace of Malfoy since the final battle." His gaze drifted off into the distance as he was pondering on how much to tell them about the rumors concerning the device.

"Everything I know about the device is almost all pure speculation. I heard snippets, bits and pieces, veiled references, but nothing to give me a complete picture. I might know the general direction of what it is supposed to do."

The whole room waited for him to keep on speaking. "Rumor has it that it can change, or strengthen, or maybe even create a strong magic affinity. I don't know if it works by using a spell or a potion, but I've heard both. The most consistent rumor about it is that it was this device that ultimately gave Riddle his exceptional powers. He was an incredible Legillimens, and I have never before seen anyone using Legillimency on that level. I wouldn't have thought it possible if I hadn't been on the receiving end myself."

He cleared his throat, clearly caught up in memories. "Yet, no one knows how it had been done. He has always had very strong abilities, which leads to the conclusion that he must have been changed at a very early age, possibly even during pregnancy. Still, the question remains if it is only possible to achieve successful results with infants, or if it may also be possible to boost the power of adult wizards. If the Death eaters were somehow able to harvest and use those powers – they'd be unstoppable."

Kingsley drummed his fingers on the worn fabric of his armchair. "We've exhausted all our sources. That's all the information we have. We don't know where they keep it or what it looks like. We don't know how far they've been able to unlock it, we don't know how many people are ultimately involved and what they are planning. We've got no way in." He gave a frustrated sigh.

Ron slumped back on the couch: "We're screwed". Agreements were muttered from different corners. Silence settled over the room as everyone contemplated their options. Again, Hermione couldn't keep her eyes from straying to Snape, who sat rigidly in his chair, pinning Aberforth down with an icy stare. Aberforth was a picture of calmness except for his right foot that kept twitching. Every now and then he gave a short glance at Snape.

After several minutes, in which a small vein on Snape's forehead had started pulsing, he finally ground out: "Out with it, Aberforth! We've had to endure each other's company for a good part of two years. Your twitching right foot tells me you're sitting on an inconvenient truth like a mother duck on her nest of eggs."

Aberforth scowled at him in response, grumbling unhappily into his beard. He huffed. "Well, I've heard some whispers– careful and discreet inquiries. About you, Severus. The Death eaters have doubts about your death. No one has seen your body before the burial. Your death has been put on the official record, but you know as well as I do that that doesn't convince everyone." His scowl deepened. "Assuming Dolohov has some problems unlocking the device, it is only logical to assume he would start looking for someone highly gifted in magic, especially regarding potions and harmful spells, who, in the best case scenario, has had previous experience with Dark Magic." He shot Snape an apologetic glance.

"Of course" Severus sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose with his fingers.

"There we have our way in!" Ron announced cheerfully. Harry punched him on the shoulder. "Thank you, Captain Obvious!" Then he turned to face Snape, an apologetic look on his face. "Professor Snape, I know it is too much to ask of you. And I would never consider it if we had any other option. I just don't see how…" his words trailed off, leaving behind an uncomfortable silence.

Snape took a deep breath and composed himself, his lip curling into a familiar sneer. "Of course. Everything for the greater good." His fingers angrily straightened the lapels of his robes, and Hermione thought she heard him mutter bitterly: _Hello darkness, my old friend_.

 **A/N: Yes, this is a tiny chapter. Apologies! It's just that the next chapter still needs some tweaking here and there (you see, there's a deeper plot ahead, surprise!), and I don't know if I'll be able to finish it this weekend, so I thought I'd at least give you the end of the meeting and some (cliffhanger) news. Next chapter will be on Snape's POV of the whole situation (and a bit of the kiss) and you'll get more background info on him and a bit more interaction with Hermione (no, not that, yet, sorry ;) )**


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: As promised, the next chapter, even a tiny bit longer than my usual ones. Somehow they just keep coming in those rather small sizes, sorry! No Hermione interaction yet - Snape just had a lot of issues that we needed to dive into.**  
 **...  
**

Severus Snape closed the door of his bedroom behind him, slumping to the floor and resting his head on his knees. A sound escaped him, a harsh chuckle that turned into a sob. Fate always had a cruel surprise for him in store, it seemed. He thought he had finally been free to lead a different life after the Dark Lord's death, but the nastiness of the world just kept circling back to him. Would he ever be free? And now, of all times, when finally there seemed to be something in his reach worth living for. Something completely unexpected. Someone completely unexpected.

Against better judgment, he allowed himself to dwell on the memory of their kiss. Although he had seen the signs, although he had encouraged her and had been aware of her reassuring responses, he had not really believed that she would truly take that last step.

The whole experience had been mind-blowing, intoxicating and extremely terrifying at the same time. Kissing her in his daydreams had always been safe. In his fantasies he designed the setting and decided the pace. He could explore slowly, carefully testing how it felt to imagine certain caresses, how far he could go before dark memories started creeping up in the back of his mind, threating to take over.

Caring gestures and compassionate skin-to-skin contact was not something that he had much experience with. He had hardly ever been hugged compassionately – in fact, he could remember only one occasion when he had still been a young boy – and his sexual experiences had been few and sparse, shared with women he had not much cared for, if not even despised in a way. Those experiences had only ever satisfied his physical needs. His emotions had long withered and died.

When Dumbledore had sent him back to the Dark Lord as a spy, even his physical needs had started to degenerate. They had been encouraged to take more drastic measures against Muggles and Muggleborns, and Severus' revulsion had grown with each new confrontation between Muggles and Death Eaters. He had taken part in torture to keep appearances up, but rape had always been a line he would not cross. When he had failed to participate, his fellow Death Eaters had started to mistrust him. The ensuing tensions led to conflicts between Snape and the others, and naturally, distrust had festered when Snape had started to raise in their ranks, setting his sights on becoming second in command. These inner conflicts had not gone unnoticed, and after a couple of weeks the issue had been addressed in one of their meetings by the Dark Lord himself. He had not been pleased with Severus' reluctance in the severe treatment of Muggles, and insisted that he had to be able to ensure that the ones in top command positions obeyed his orders, no matter what was asked of them. It would have taken extraordinary means to force Severus to do anything that went completely against his will, so the Dark Lord had cheated. All the deeds that he had refused to carry out had been implanted in his mind as false memories of himself doing everything he had refused to do before. The Dark Lord had figured that if Snape believed he had done it once before, he would not hesitate as much to cross that same bridge again.

Severus had been obliviated so he would not remember that there had been issues concerning his behavior, and the new memories had been horribly real, undistinguishable from his own. He had known back then that he would never have done something like that on his own free will, and he had realized that he must have been obliviated at some point, but he hadn't known why. He'd been pondering the possibility that he might have been forced to act that way, but as he was largely resistant to the Imperius curse, he had failed to come up with an explanation. Yet, the memories had been so detailed, so real to him that he had not allowed himself to believe that they might have been false.

The worst part had been the emotions keyed to the memories. He had remembered the pleasure of degrading the Muggles, of forcing himself on them. It had made him thoroughly sick, and the only way for him to cope with it all had been to bury those memories under Occlumecy shields that felt like thick, dark layers of ice. His last few physical needs or desires had perished as a consequence. He had come to a point where the he only felt revulsion at the thought of sexual interaction or even close body contact.

The Dark Lord's death had changed those memories. They were still there, entangled with his own, but the horrible sensation of realness had faded. Now he knew they were false, and that had been an intense relief. His sanity had been frayed at the seams, and the knowledge that he was truly innocent of those crimes was like a healing balm for his mind and soul. He had finally been able to function again, to feel a bit more like himself.

Still, those horrible memories, false as they were, were still rooted deeply in his mind and fed on him in dark hours of the night, when his Occlumecy shields started fading. A cold shiver ran down Severus' spine. Although he kept the memories hidden in the deepest recesses of his mind, it constantly felt like carrying around a block of ice. He had no problems keeping a lid on the memories in everyday situations, but every time he considered compassionate human contact, the ice started to crack, and foul, dark memories slithered out, poisoning his mind, freezing his brain. As long as kissing Granger had been confined to his mind, the ice had trembled, but it had held. That was as far as he had allowed himself to think, skirting the edge of a dangerous abyss.

And then she had kissed him for real. And he had been overwhelmed by her taste, her smell, her touch, the closeness of her body, radiating so much heat that it had threatened to burn him. And when her tongue had touched his lips, his insides had turned into a crazed inferno that had exploded every protective layer of ice that he had put on those memories. At first, he had been able to keep them at bay, allowing himself to indulge in this exhilarating experience. Her soft hands had tangled in his hair, sending delicious shivers through his body. And then she had made those little sounds of satisfaction and need that had robbed him of his breath. He had never felt so wanted or desired before, and to feel her urging him on with her hands, her lips, her whole body had been truly overwhelming. So much that he had felt his control on the dark, swirling memories slip. Before they could take over, he had ended the kiss, pulling his inner walls up again. It had taken all of his strength to push them back into the remote corners of his mind, once again slowly growing layers of ice.

He had seen the hurt in her eyes when she had observed him composing himself. When he had tried to establish some careful distance between them, she had taken it as rejection. He couldn't blame her. He could not give her what she wanted, not yet. He had not really dealt with those memories as of yet, and there was a very long and rocky road ahead. Longer than they had time for now.

He didn't know how to explain it to her. Suppressing memories had been the only way he had ever known how to deal with trauma. He had never before opened up to anyone. Yet the thought that he might have squandered his chance to be with her caused a pain in his chest that was so great it seemed to rob him of his breath. He had seen fury burning in her eyes, and he had been gripped by a sudden fear that he might have gambled and lost. When he had seen her later at the meeting, and she had seemed so composed and had sought out a seat close by, he had been flooded by intense relief. Which soon had given way to astonishment and then a spark of irritation at her sudden comfortable smugness, raising her eyebrow at him so teasingly. She had turned the tables on him again.

He had angled his body away from her, then, so that he could be sure she didn't catch the look of bliss that must have shown on his face at the realization that she not only had forgiven him for his lack of response to their kiss, but obviously still wanted to be with him. Very much, if he had read her eyes correctly. He hadn't known how much a woman could convey with her eyes. His throat had dried up while he had studied her beautiful face with those expressive eyes, one of her eyebrows still slightly raised to tease him. Insolent little chit.

There had been this sense of warmth slowly seeping through his body, something very close to happiness that lazily flowed through his veins while he had listened to Potter summing up the last reports on the Death Eater situation. A small part of his mind had been occupied with planning a future that might have Hermione Granger in it. As absurd as the notion still seemed, he had finally allowed himself to truly consider it – they could take their time, really get to know each other, testing the waters slowly, giving him time to adjust to the physical and emotional closeness. The tingling feeling had again spread through his body at those thoughts.

No wonder it had taken him that long to notice the twitching foot. He should have known that happiness just wasn't for him. There would be no time for them. There would be an intense phase of preparation and planning, and then in a rather short time he would have to leave and take up a mask again, shedding most of his humanity. There would be no time left to adjust to anything, least of all physical contact. And even if that should be the case – this mission might take months or years to complete, and he would have to live surrounded by hateful, mistrustful and mostly psychotic people, while she would move on and meet a man better suited for her life. And he would be all the more miserable for knowing what he had lost. He wanted to scream and trash his room, but in the end, he just dragged himself into the shower and only left when he realized the water had been running cold for some time. He put on his nightclothes and reclined on his bed, knowing full and well he would not get any sleep tonight.

...  
 **A/N: So, I've had this song stuck in my head for the last two weeks, and it will be mentioned in the next chapter. Can anyone guess what it was? There's been a hint in the last chapters, but I'm not saying where. ;)  
(Please remember to log in for your guess, otherwise, I cannot reply to tell you if you've guessed correctly!)  
**


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: Congratulations to MJJnMK! You got it right. ;) And now - Hermione to the rescue...  
...**

The hallway to Snape's bedroom lay dark and empty as Hermione carefully peeked around the corner. She tiptoed to his door, raising her hand to knock, then hesitating. She had lain in her bed, tossing around, thinking about Snape's hasty exit from the meeting and the consequences of what had been revealed tonight. She didn't want to intrude on him when he needed time to himself, but she had to know what this meant for the two of them. And maybe, she rationalized, he might actually allow himself to accept comfort from her. So she had finally slipped out of bed to seek him out.

Taking a deep breath, she quietly knocked on the door. Her heart was thundering in her chest while she waited, and for an eternity nothing happened. She was about to turn away when she heard the lock turning. The door was opened only a crack, but when he saw who it was, he pulled it fully open to allow her inside.

When she had slipped into the room, she looked at him to speak, but lost her words at the look of desperation in his eyes. She felt her throat close up and stepped closer to him, drawing him into a tight embrace, burying her face in his chest. He sucked in a breath and stiffened, but after a few moments she felt him relax and slowly bring up his hands to rest on her back. She pulled him closer still, her hands drawing slow circles at the small of his back. She stood like that for the longest time, enjoying the feel of his body against hers and the heady smell of smoke, herbs and rain that was Severus. When his heartbeat had settled down to a regular pace, she drew back a bit, still keeping her left hand at the small of his back while she raised her right one to sift her fingers through the strands of hair falling over his eyes, pushing them to the side. She cupped his cheek and raised herself on her toes to give him a soft kiss on his beautifully arched lips.

Linking the fingers of her right hand with his left, she gave his hand a squeeze and met his eyes. "So, what does this mean for the two of us?"

He returned the squeeze, but she could see the torment in his eyes. "I want you to know that I really want this… I really would have wanted this, had the circumstances been right. But now, I don't know how it could be possible." He turned away from her, slipping his hand from hers, and stood to look out of the window. He braced his hands on the windowsill and rested the weight of his body on his arms, letting his head fall forward, his hair obscuring most of his face. He seemed at a loss for words, but finally straightened up to turn and face her. "Hermione – I'm damaged goods. Very damaged. Close body contact is a struggle for me. I want to be close to you, I really do. But there are limits to what I can do. There have been things… done to me that have broken something inside of me. I don't know if I will be able to… do what you probably want me to do. We don't have enough time. And even if… I could be gone for years." He squeezed his eyes shut as if in pain before finally meeting hers again.

Hermione closed the distance between the two of them, brushing her thumb over the back of his hand. "I hate the thought that we might be separated for such a long time, but that doesn't change a thing about me wanting to be with you. On the contrary, I want to spend every free minute that I have with you. I don't care if we take it slow. Or really, really slow. Just being close to you is enough right now."

She could see doubt written all over his face, and she gave him a shy smile. "You know, going slow really suits me just fine. I don't want my first time to be rushed." She could see his surprise in the widening of his eyes.

"But I thought you and Weasley…"

She shot him an embarrassed grin. "Well, that turned out to be a heat of the moment thing, and after the moment there wasn't any heat left. Besides, I've always had rather specific ideas for that special event, and those never included Ron."

He raised his eyebrows at her, an unspoken question to her comment. She sighed. "Yes, those specific ideas included you, a bed and a wand. But that's all you'll be getting out of me until you're ready to act it out."

A smirk appeared on his face, his eyebrows inching even higher. "A wand? Really? Now I'm intrigued."

She gave him a sly look. "Well, then you'll have to put in some hard work to find out, won't you? Speaking of which, I already have an idea of how we can work on acclimatizing you to body contact..." she took a deep breath, studying him carefully. "I want us to share a bed."

She could see that he was starting to pull back, becoming uncomfortable with the idea, so she clarified. "We don't need to do anything you're not comfortable with. Just sleeping next to each other."

He seemed to be wrestling with different emotions, unable to come to a decision. She decided to keep pressing, but softly. "We'll keep our clothes on. I promise. No unwanted touching, I'll always ask first." He looked at her, still very hesitant, but calmer. She took his hand and kissed his knuckles, trying to lighten the mood. "You know, we can agree on a safeword for cuddling, if you want to. How do you feel about 'Sherbet Lemon'?"

He shuddered. "Dumbledore is the last thing I want to think about when being in bed with you."

"Okay, so something that sounds a bit more sexy? How about 'Whomping Willow'?" she smirked. "'Whomping' sounds like something I'd eventually like to do with you, if the mood of the moment is right..."

He groaned at her. "Behave, you!" Then he grumbled, his glittering eyes fixed on her: "'Liqueur-filled chocolate candy' might work, too, don't you think? It's just a bit long." Her eyes rounded in surprise and awe. "I'm shocked! Did you just make a joke? And for Merlin's sake, how did you know it was liqueur-filled chocolate candy that got me drunk back in my fifth year?!"

"I have my sources…" he rumbled in his resonant, dark voice, sending shivers down her spine. She had to clench her fists to keep herself from closing the gap and wrapping her limbs around his long, slender body. Instead, she held her ground, regarding him calmly, still waiting for his verdict on her proposition.

Finally, he sighed but relented. "Fine. We'll share the bed. But all our clothes are staying on."

She kept herself from giving a joyful shout and instead skipped to the bed, slipping under the covers and holding up one side of the blankets for him. He pinched the bridge of his nose but then turned and slowly walked to the bed, slipping under the covers with her.

When he had settled down, she inched closer to the heat of his body. Propping herself up on one elbow, she studied him, a satisfied smile playing on her lips. He returned the smile, grudgingly. "So," she said, "how do you feel about snuggling?"

"Snuggling?!" Another shiver ran through her body at the sound of his deep, delicious voice drawing out the word. She bit her lip, giving him a hopeful look.

"Well," he sighed. "I guess it wouldn't hurt to give it a try." He held out his arm to her and she molded herself to him, slipping one arm around his waist, careful not to press her breasts against his side, although she had to fight temptation. Being this close to him, touching him, had desire burning in her veins again. She could feel a hot pulsing sensation in different places of her body that she desperately tried to ignore. She was glad he had gone as far as he had with her already, and it truly was a good idea to wait before taking it to the next level. She just wished someone would tell her body that.

It was very soothing to listen to the sound of their breathing in the quiet room and the slight rattling of the window panes as a storm brewed in the night. Hermione sighed contently. "The Sound of Silence," she mused. Severus turned his head to look at her inquisitively.

"You know, I was just wondering if it was coincidence or if you knew the song," she said, remembering his bitter comment after finding out about Aberforth's news.

"Simon and Garfunkel."

She smiled at him. "You know Muggle songs?"

"I grew up a half-blood, don't forget. And magic was not much cherished in our household. I've spent quite some time in the muggle world." Those thoughts did not seem to lead to happy memories, so she turned their talk back to the song.

"You know, I've had the song stuck in my head for the last few hours. Some parts of the lyrics are strangely fitting for us, don't you think?"

She could see him running through the lyrics in his head, and the spark in his eyes when caught her reference. "And the vision that was planted in my brain/ Still remains…"

She laughed. "It's perfect, isn't it?"

He grinned at her. "Well, there's no denying that they will always remain… all four of them."

She moaned in exasperation. "Will you ever tell me what that fourth one was?!"

He took a deep breath, considering her request, but then shook his head and looked at her with a kind of amused regret. "I'm sorry, I just cannot put that into words. We'll see if we'll find another way to let you know what it was… someday… somehow." His face took on a stern look. "Enough of it. Quiet now, we have some side-by-side sleeping to do." With that, he settled back into his pillow, drawing her closer to him.

...  
 **A/N: I promise you, I'll find a way to let you know what that fourth scenario was... someday... somehow ;)**  
 **Aside from that, I'll be happy to receive other safeword suggestions. The best I could come up with was Whomping Willow, and Zaubernuss has invented the wonderful "Shrieking Shag" that still has me chuckling. Can anyone top that? ;)**


	15. Chapter 15

He listened to her quiet, deep breathing, trying to adjust to the whole situation. Part of him was still in shock that he had actually agreed to share a bed with her. He had not planned on saying yes to her proposition. He had not planned on anything that had happened that evening. But that wonderful experience of her embrace had deeply confounded him. It had been purely comforting and caring, completely unlike the kiss they had shared. This time, is hold on his dark memories had been unaffected; and after a brief moment of panic when she had pulled him into her arms, he had allowed himself to relax and enjoy the feeling of her warm body pressed to his, stroking his skin soothingly.

He had often imagined what being held like that would feel like, but reality had surpassed his imagination. For the first time in his life he had allowed himself to surrender, to just be. The weight on his shoulders had crumbled away for a moment, and he had felt at peace. In what must have probably been a short episode of insanity, his brain had supplied one word: _Home_. Not that he would know what that felt like. During his childhood, he had lived in the same house as his parents, but it had never been something anyone would have called home.

He had cursed himself for his sentimental reaction to her embrace, but had been unable to pull away. This strong response towards her was in part his own fault, he had to admit. During those two years spent in solitude, he had indulged in thoughts about her quite a lot – too much, in fact. It had started with replaying their daydream kiss, but soon the fantasies had spread out to other scenarios. Experiences that he had always wished for, but had never had. What he had wanted most was that special bond between two people – something made of belonging, trust, acceptance and caring. Something that had always eluded him. He'd seen it with others, but he had never experienced it for himself, and so he had allowed himself to daydream about having all of it. And as hard as he had tried – oh, and he had tried! – to imagine himself with another woman, but nothing had felt right, well, no one had felt right – except for Miss Granger.

When he had dreamt about sharing his life with a partner, he had imagined someone to sit at the fireplace with him, absorbed in a thick book, basked in a comfortable silence only disturbed by the crackling of burning logs. Someone who fought with him over the front page of the Daily Prophet at breakfast, someone who could match his wit in arguments, who would be thrilled to spend the night in the lab with him, brewing experimental potions. Someone who could deal with his moods and share his sense of sarcasm. There had never been anyone to fit that bill. He had pondered about that quite a lot, and had also come to the painful but somehow relieving conclusion that even if his life had taken a different path, Lily Evans would not have been someone who met all of his criteria. Not even close, if he was being truthful. They would not have been happy together. He had mostly wanted her because he could never have her, and she had been a symbol for all he had wanted. But now he realized that that had been all – a symbol, a teenage dream.

And then there was Granger. At first, he had only seen her as an over-enthusiastic, meddlesome student, a thorn in his side. It was only later on, when the Order of the Phoenix had forced them into contact, that he had gotten more glimpses of her as a person. He'd known she was a brilliant overachiever capable of regurgitating half a library, but then, for the first time, he had noticed how she could actually refrain from instantly babbling about everything that came to her mind, and instead reflect on a problem before voicing an opinion. She usually even brought a fresh perspective or a new idea to the discussion. He had been impressed with this new side of her, as grudgingly as he had to admit it to himself. Also, if caught up in one of her moods, she was quite prone to giving snarky comebacks that he quite enjoyed. All in all, she seemed to fit the bill surprisingly well.

That was why, when he had finally allowed himself to dream about that comfortable, companionable silence at the fireplace, it had been Granger who had sat in the other chair. It had been Granger wrestling the Daily Prophet's front page from his hand and yelping when he smacked her on the bum with the Quidditch section as payback.

And that was why, when she had asked to share his bed, he had been unable to refuse her. It had been one of his favorite daydreams, imagining how it would be, sleeping side by side with her, having her wrapped in his arms, melting into his chest. It had been the only thing he found himself unable to truly imagine, because he lacked any experience that came close. He'd laughed with others before, he had worked in comfortable silence with others before, but he had never allowed anyone to come that close as to sleep next to him. But he had wanted that more than anything. So he had taken her up on her offer, in spite of the nagging voice in his mind accusing him of exploiting a school girl crush.

Having her in his arms now seemed unreal. It was so much more than he had hoped for, yet so alien that he was unable to think clearly. He was overwhelmed by her enticing smell, her soft skin and the small sounds she made in her sleep. A strand of unruly hair had fallen over her face, and he brushed it carefully to the side, tracing her jaw with his fingertips. She sighed contently, her arm over his stomach pulling him even closer to her, locking him in her embrace. For a moment, he thought he might panic again, but instead, a warm, comforting feeling flowed through his body like a lazy wave, anchoring him, spreading a wonderful illusion of safety. He allowed himself to fully relax, and instantly, sleep claimed him.

…..

She woke in the night, first not knowing where she was and what had woken her, but slowly, the memories of their conversation and their decision to share a bed came back to her. She listened, but could not hear a sound, not even his breathing. Alarmed, she turned to look at him. The room was dark, but she could see the outline of his body. He lay rigidly, almost unmoving, save for small tremors running over his limbs. She leaned closer, and was relieved to catch the sound of shallow breathing. Being this close, she could see that his face was twisted in pain.

The tremors started to increase in intensity, and soon, his body was shaking, a light sheen of sweat on his skin. He started to whisper incoherently, his voice raw with agony and despair. He was deep into his nightmare, and she was afraid to wake him in this state. Instead, she moved closer, cautiously raising her hand to brush softly through his hair, murmuring reassuringly. He seemed to be cold, so she molded herself closer, running one hand up and down his body, softly massaging his arms and thighs to get his circulation going. All the while, she kept whispering to him, telling him he was safe, that she was with him, and that she would not leave him. He probably would have sneered at her words, had he been awake to hear them, but it was what she would want to hear in the throes of a nightmare.

After a couple of minutes, he visibly calmed down. The muttering ceased and the tremors stopped. He was still cold and rigid, so she kept stroking his arms and chest, brushing his temple with her lips, placing soft kisses here and there, still reassuring him with caring words. After what felt like an eternity, he gave a deep sigh that carried some syllables of her name, and fully relaxed in her arms. She put her head on his chest, and soothed by the strong and calm rhythm of his heartbeat, she soon drifted off to sleep.


	16. Chapter 16

The first rays of the morning sun touched upon the blankets of the bed as Hermione opened her eyes. A smile played along her lips as she realized where she was, and she very slowly and carefully raised her head to look at the sleeping form of Severus Snape lying next to her in bed. Her heart clenched at the sight. In sleep, his face was relaxed, the deep line between his eyebrows almost invisible. A strand of dark, silky hair clung to his cheek and she had to fight the urge to brush it away from his face. She did not want to wake him, as not to deprive herself of the opportunity to study him while he was unaware. She marveled at his long, dark lashes, his pale skin and the elegant lines of his prominent nose. Her eyes came to rest on his lips, and she had to suppress a sigh. She loved the arching lines of his mouth, his cupid's bow shaped with more delicious curves than anyone should be allowed to have. His lips were neither too thin nor too full, and now that she knew what they tasted like, it was very hard to hold back. Kissing him had felt so damn good. She could not tear her gaze away from his mouth, and moved imperceptibly closer.

"Stop staring at me," he grumbled, his eyes still closed.

Hermione yelped in surprise, then scowled at him. "I should have known. You've always found a way to keep me from eyeing you too much." She gave a dramatic sigh. "When will I ever be able to ogle you to my heart's content?"

He snorted, then slipped out of bed and disappeared into the bathroom. She fell back onto the bed with a deep sigh. She had hoped that maybe they would kiss again (at the thought, she quickly used a cleansing spell on her mouth and added a touch of mint), but although he looked more relaxed and refreshed than she had ever seen him (which she took as a sign that he had enjoyed sleeping next to her, too) he had not tried to initiate anything, or shown any interest in being closer to her. A deep yearning tugged at her insides, but she knew she had to move at his pace, and that sharing a bed meant something completely different to him than it would to most other people. For them, this was the step that happened right before sex; yet to him, it seemed to be just the beginning of the long, winding road he had talked about. She knew that he had to feel completely comfortable around her, comfortable touching her, being comfortable having _her_ touching _him_ before they could move on to the next step. It would still take a lot of work. Not that she minded that kind of work, she thought with a smirk.

The bathroom door opened, and he leaned against the doorjamb, running a hand through his hair, studying her in his bed with a slightly bewildered smile. She shot him a small, understanding smile. What a strange situation to find themselves in, both not sure how to proceed with these new, intimate circumstances.

"I think everyone will be gathering in the kitchen soon," she said. "They'll be scheming and making plans over breakfast, now that they have a lead. We should be there, too."

"Yes, let's see what nice little ideas those dunderhead have for my future. I can't wait," he replied dryly. "You go first, I'll be along in a couple of minutes."

She tiptoed to the door, putting her ear against it, listening for sounds in the hallway. "God, I feel like a teenager about to be caught by my parents," she whispered.

He drew in a breath to scoff at her, to point out that she _was_ a teenager, when his brain caught up to him just in time to point out that, no, she was indeed no longer a teenager. She did not look like a teenager anymore, either. Also, he couldn't deny the fact that his gaze often lovingly noticed said circumstances. He frowned at that. She answered his frown with a smirk, and he had the distinct impression that she knew what he had been thinking; that maybe, she had even said it purposely to tease him. Before he could say anything about it, though, she had slipped out of the door.

…..

The breakfast table was laden with food, cutlery, as well as with an abundance of Hermione Granger's research materials. Her bag occupied the seat next to her, parchments were piled on the table in front of her, filled with her neat handwriting, while she herself was scribbling intently on what looked to be one of her ever famous to-do-lists. While Miss Granger appeared to be deep in thought, everywhere around her, excited snippets of information were exchanged, heads stuck together in discussion, and excited laughter accompanied their animated chatter.

Severus Snape rested against the doorjamb, taking in the scene, quite reluctant to join in. It was his future they were discussing, and that upset him like little else. He thought he'd be finally free of expectations of others, but it seemed that wasn't meant to be. His gaze wandered over the kitchen table, realizing that all chairs were already occupied. Hermione caught his eye, and with a smile, shoved her bag under her feet, freeing a seat for him. He raised an eyebrow at her that clearly said: _I know that wasn't a coincidence – you wanted me to sit next to you._ And she shot him a smirk that told him: _Why yes, of course, what did you expect_?!

He slid into the corner bench, so that they sat at a right angle to each other. Due to the rather restricted space, he had to fold himself into the seat, grumbling all the while. He gave her a stern look that was supposed to convey his annoyance at this seating option, but she only shot him a small grin and then moved her knee to nudge his leg. She kept her leg pressed to his, savoring her body's delicious reaction to their touch, and twinkled at him – _See, isn't this worth the cramped space?_

He snarled in response, but she could see that he did not really mind. He leaned a bit closer to get a good look at the list she was writing.

1\. Location of artifact?  
2\. How to establish contact with Death Eaters/Dolohov and SS?  
3\. Method of communication between SS and OoP – has to be non-traceable, cannot be overheard or understood by other parties, easy access, inconspicuous. Modified DA coin?

"DA coin?" he asked, raising his eyebrows. "Care to elaborate?"

Before Hermione had a chance to reply, Harry spoke up: "That's actually a great idea. Do we still have them around somewhere?"

"I packed them away, they should be up in the attic," Hermione replied, lost in thought. "Though we'd need to modify them so we can relay more information than just dates. Maybe some sort of code…"

She gave a small yelp as her leg was pinched by long, slender fingers, and she looked up into Severus Snape's scowling face. "Yes, sorry – the coins. I fabricated fake Galleons, on which I placed a Protean Charm. The series of numerals around the edge of each coin would change into the time and date of the next meeting of the D.A. whenever the master coin changed, which had been in Harry's possession at the time. The coin would also warm up to alert the holder to the change."

He gave a sigh and looked at her with an exasperated expression. "Of course – leave it to Miss Granger to go all out. I should not have expected anything less from the brain of the Golden Trio."

It was her turn to pinch his leg, and she decided to leave her hand in place. Indeed, why not use the chance to do some work on getting him accustomed to body contact? She studied the table and seating arrangements, making sure no one could see what she was doing. Then she slid her hand from where it rested just above his knee to underneath his thigh and slid it towards his calf, pushing upwards so that she could settle his leg on her lap, his calf coming in contact with the top of her thighs. He stiffened, but did not pull away, so she rested her left hand on his shin and turned to Harry, who had resumed speaking.

"What kind of code did you have in mind?" he asked her.

Hermione bit her lip, thinking. "Well, the problem is that we cannot use anything else than the numbers that are already on the coin. The Death Eaters will be extremely suspicious of Professor Snape, knowing that he has betrayed Voldemort. It seems they want to take their chance with him, but he won't have their trust. They'll be keeping a very close eye on him and his belongings."

"What about if we use a number for each letter, according to the alphabet," supplied Ron.

"The problem with this is that the numbers would have to change a lot, and you would have to take out the coin to read it while getting the information. There is no way to do that inconspicuously, so if he is being watched constantly, which will most likely be the case, then he cannot use it." Lost in thought, her hand began drawing slow circles on the fabric covering his shin, moving up towards his knee again.

"Also, it would pose no problem to them to decipher a code that is based on such an easy pattern. We need a code that is impossible to decode for them but quite easy for us to decipher and send." She leant back, thinking, allowing her hand to inch over the top of his knee while her eyes wandered through the room. She was snapped out of her thoughts when they met his; he stared at her intensely, obviously affected by her touch – in a good way, she hoped. A delicious shiver trickled down her spine. She gave him a small smile and allowed her hand to squeeze the toned muscles of his thigh.

Still holding her gaze, he slowly moved his right hand so that it rested just above her knee, giving her a small squeeze back, then stroked his thumb over the fabric of her jeans. The place where his hand rested on her leg burned as if it had been scorched, and her heartbeat doubled. She marveled at her body's reactions – she had never felt anything this intense before, just brought on by a simple squeeze and a brush of a thumb.

Her brain saved her from melting into a pining puddle in front of her friends by supplying a sudden inspiration regarding the code. He instantly noted the change in her eyes and raised his eyebrows in a silent question. She smirked at him and with her left hand on his thigh, delivered him a message:

 _Stroke, stroke, stroke – squeeze, squeeze, squeeze – stroke, stroke, stroke_

She waited until she saw a look of understanding dawn in his eyes, then continued.

 _Stroke, stroke, tap, stroke, squeeze, squeeze – stroke, squeeze – squeeze, stroke – squeeze, tap, squeeze – squeeze, squeeze, squeeze, tap, squeeze, stroke, squeeze – stroke, stroke – stroke, stroke, stroke – stroke, stroke, stroke, tap, squeeze, stroke, squeeze, squeeze – squeeze, squeeze, squeeze – stroke, stroke, squeeze._

He was concentrating hard, but after a moment, he looked up, a glint in his eyes, and he replied:

 _stroke, squeeze, stroke, stroke – stroke, stroke – squeeze – squeeze – stroke, squeeze, stroke, stroke – stroke, tap, stroke, squeeze, stroke, squeeze – stroke, stroke, stroke, stroke – stroke, stroke – squeeze_

She laughed, and in answer to bewildered looks announced: "I think I might have come up with something useful in regard to our problem: Morse code!"

"Morsel code?" Ron said with a frown. "Is that some kind of Muggle thing again?"

...

 **A/N: Yes, I can be mean: if you want to find out what they were saying, you'll have to decipher it using morse code (tip:** _ **tap**_ **is the end of a word, and "–" is the pause between letters of a word. Hermione's first message, as you've probably guessed, was "SOS". The rest you'll have to figure out on your own. A little challenge for my readers… ;)**

 **I will be giving the correct answer with the next chapter, or you can have a look at the reviews, one reader already figured it out! ;)**


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N: Yes, sorry, it has been a while! I've been really sick over New Years and spent days in a half-coma on the couch. Downside: I did not work on Guilty Pleasures while sick. Upside: I had a nice little inspiration for a HG/SS oneshot ("Harpy's mistletoe" on my profile if you're interested).**

 **Also, I've been swamped with work and will be in the weeks to come, so I might not be able to update as soon as I like but I am definitely going to try to do it on a regular basis.**  
 **A big thank you again to Zaubernuss for looking over my chapters and always returning them so quickly! You're the best!**

 **As for our Morse code in the last chapter, the correct answer was, as given correctly by Melanie:**

 **Hermione: "I want to kiss you"**

 **Severus: "Little chit"**

…

They spend the next few days working fervently on planning their next steps. The kitchen had become their main work space, the table constantly occupied with Order members discussing new ideas. Hermione and Severus were mainly working on the coins, while Harry and the others gathered the bits and pieces of information they had on the Death eaters and where they had last been seen, marking their location on a large world map covering a third of the kitchen table.

Hermione turned the master coin in her hand, holding it up to the light, trying to see if there was a significant difference to the regular gallon that was sitting on the table in front of her. The numerals on the master coin were raised in slightly different heights, almost unnoticeable, but the differences could be felt when running a fingertip over them. The Morse code system was not perfect, but it would do. The coin would heat up with an incoming message, and you had to run your finger once around the rim to start it. The numerals would then change in height every time a circle was completed, until the message was finished, at which point the numerals would all go back to the same height. Hermione placed the master coin next to the regular galleon, and sighed contently, turning to Severus. "So, this should be fine. What's next on our list?"

He sighed. "Dolohov. From what we have heard, he's the one that will be most likely in charge. We need to find out where he is and figure out how to best approach him." They leaned closer to the map, tracking the labeled pins in search for Dolohov's name. It had been at least a year since he had been seen in Britain, and several sources confirmed that he must be residing in Eastern Europe at the moment, Bulgaria having been mentioned more than once. They found his name pinned close to Lake Varna. Hermione scowled. "Varna. Why does that sound familiar?"

"I am sure in one of your studious sessions about History of Magic you've come across the term 'Varna culture'. It dates back to the copper age. They were Alchemists, the first ones to be able to produce gold from base metals with the help of elemental magic. They are also rumored to be the cradle of all magic, the first wizarding line, so to say. Of course, it's all pure speculation."

Harry chimed in. "That does sound promising. Maybe the artifact we're looking for is of Varna origin."

The discussion kept circling about Bulgaria and which approach to take to try and get in contact with Dolohov, contemplating how to introduce Snape into the equation. In the end, they decided the best approach was a passive one, placing him in Dolohov's vicinity by researching old potion books in Varna's oldest library and waiting for Dolohov to take the first step. The Pencho Slaveykov Public Library hosted a secret wing labled "rare books and books of true merit" that was rumored to include books that dealt the first wizarding potions ever invented. Snape might even be able to find some reference to the artifact, killing two birds with one stone.

It had grown quite late before the group dispersed, heading off to bed. Hermione locked the door of her bedroom behind her, then apparated into Severus' room. They had decided it was easiest for everyone if the kept their association a secret until they had everything sorted out.

Severus was in bed already, an open book before him; but the expression in his eyes told her his mind was somewhere else. She slid into bed next to him, stroking his shoulder softly. "Are you alright?"

He sighed, closing the book, and shifted so that the length of his arm was touching the side of her body. Her skin started tingling where she felt his touch and she wished he would move even closer, maybe kiss her like he had done back then in the lab…

"It's just all those plans… it's a bit much, right now," he said, turning to face her. "But let's not talk about it anymore – it was a long day." He lifted his hand and pushed a lock of hair behind her ear. She shivered at the touch, leaning closer, willing him to take the clue.

He smirked at her then, clearly reading her request in her expression, and moved closer, bending his head to brush his lips over hers. She sighed against his mouth, eagerly responding to his touch. She slowly trailed her hands up his arms, linking them around his neck. It had only taken that little from him for her body to be on fire, hot shivers running up and down her spine, and she wanted to much more than just the careful touch of his lips on hers. She nibbled on his lower lip, hoping to entice him into giving more. One of her hands started playing with his hair; the silky strands gliding through her fingers while the other hand travelled down his back, her fingertips trailing over his skin. She was almost sure that she felt him shiver under her touch, and move imperceptibly closer, but before she could feel some smug satisfaction, he had started to pull away again, settling back into the pillows.

She groaned inwardly with disappointment. She had been sure he was about to pull her closer, to kiss her like he had that one time … but now he seemed to hold back intentionally. She had the distinct impression that something was on his mind concerning her, something he was keeping from her.

Eyeing him suspiciously, she snuggled up to his side into the sleeping position they had come to adopt over the last few days. She only hoped he would open up to her soon and tell her what was on his mind. While she was still contemplating what it might be, his breathing had turned even, signaling that he had fallen asleep. She propped herself up on one elbow, indulging in the sight of his relaxed face, tracing the strong lines of his mouth lovingly with her eyes before settling back against him, letting herself be lulled into sleep by the sound of his heartbeat.

….

She woke in the middle of the night, as usual, when Severus was in the throes of his nightmares. This time, it was different, though. Instead of growing more agitated, he grew quieter, stiller, until he almost seemed lifeless. His skin was cold to the touch, and all her rubbing and soothing whispers did nothing to keep him from getting even colder. The warming charms that she had spelled on the covers did only help marginally, and soon she had to keep herself from panicking. She did not know how to help him, and he did not wake when she shook him, so she decided to just stay with him and do her best to keep him warm.

She sat up, pulling her pajama top over her head, her naked skin prickling when it came into contact with the cold air. She bent over him, grasping his nightshirt and pulling it up, bunching the fabric around his shoulders before snuggling close to him, pressing her bare front against his naked back. She pulled the covers over the two of them and slid her arm around his waist. His skin was incredibly cold, and she shivered against him. "Come back to me, Severus," she whispered in his ear, trailing kisses along his neck. "You're safe with me. I'm here for you."

After a while, she felt him warming up against her. When he drew in a deep breath and sighed, so did she, incredibly relived and utterly exhausted. She tightened the hold around his waist and drifted off to sleep.

…..

Severus woke in the morning, feeling as if he had slept in a furnace. His back felt scorched. His body was on fire… in more ways than one. He still remembered his teenage days, when waking up with a stiff body part had been a common occurrence, but it had been ages that it had last happened to him. It was a strange, yet not entirely unpleasant sensation to once again have his body stand to attention, so to say.

The last fuzziness of sleep started to drain away, leaving him to notice the source of the heat. Hermione was pressed against his back, and as his hands slowly slid over the arm draped around his waist, he realized she must have taken off her top during the night. Only then did he realize that his own top was bunched around his shoulders. That explained the incredible heat sensation on his back, especially those two soft globes pressing into his skin just below his shoulder blades. He moved away slowly, carefully, as not to wake her, and turned around to take in the view.

His breath caught in his throat. She looked so beautiful with her wild hair draped over the pillows, her skin glowing in the morning light. His gaze dropped to her chest, and he had to suppress a groan as his eyes lingered on the soft well of breasts, watching as her nipples puckered in reaction to the cold air. She stirred, opening her eyes just a crack and smiling sleepily when she met his eyes. After a minute, she noticed the heat in his eyes and watched them drop to her chest, a satisfied smirk appearing on his lips.

"Enjoying the view?" she whispered hoarsely.

"Very much so," he answered with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

They moved simultaneously, both reaching for each other, their lips meeting in a desperate kiss. Finally, she thought, as he deepened the kiss, his hands travelling up and down her body. She arched into him, responding with enthusiasm. A moan escaped her, and she could hear the answering growl in his chest. As wonderful as the previous, rather chaste kisses had been, nothing could compare to the touch of his tongue on hers. It made the blood in her veins boil and sing at the same time.

She slid her leg over his hip, moving closer, and felt the hard ridge of his erection pressed against her most sensitive parts. Her body responded instantly, flooding her with desire and need. She started moving against him as their kisses grew even bolder and their hands travelled further. She wondered if she should try moving her hand below the waistband of his pants, attempting to initiate the next step, when he again started to pull back before she could act on her desires.

She sighed deeply with obvious disappointment and let herself fall back into the pillows. He chuckled at her exasperated expression, trailing a finger along her cheek.

"We will get there in time," he told her. Then a shadow seemed to cross his features, and he drew in a deep breath, regarding her with solemn eyes. "There is one thing that we still need to talk about – and I'm fairly sure you won't like it."

...

 **A/N: Yes, I'm sorry, I had to end the chapter somewhere and this seemed to be the best place to do it. Seems I'm prone to cliffhangers. I'm a bit nervous about how you're going to react to what he is going to tell her! Find out with the next chapter ;)**

 **Also: The probability of the next chapter being up soon is a lot higher when my muse is inspired by some reviews. It really does help me going (Thanks to metafizyka, I finished this chapter sooner than expected.)**

 **Your reviews really do make a difference, and I love to read them. So please keep me going!**


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N: Good news! Not only was I able to get the new chapter done sooner than expected (thank you for your reviews, they kept me going), but I am also going to post it one day early to make up for the mean cliffhanger last time. Please don't kill me for what he is about to tell her ;)  
**

 **More good news: SassenachStarbuck has stepped in as my new beta to help me with all those little mistakes that slip through when you're not a native speaker of English. Thank you so much! So now I hope I've got all my i's dotted and t's crossed!  
**

 **...**

She eyed him suspiciously. She knew he had been keeping something from her and it seemed he was finally able to talk about it. Yet, the prospect that it was something she did not want to hear tainted her relief.

"What is it?"

He sighed deeply and pulled her closer, so that she could nestle into his side, before he resumed speaking.

"We don't know how far they've been able to unlock the powers of the artifact. We need to consider that they might have a very powerful Legilimens in their ranks now. And unlike my time with the Dark Lord, it will be highly likely that I am going to spend a lot of time with Dolohov and his crew, possibly even sharing their quarters in the long run, if everything works out as we've planned."

She nodded, but failed to see how this concerned her, so she waited for him to continue.

"The more time I spend with the Death Eaters, the more likely it is that my shields might slip. I'm a Master of Occlumency, but even I need sleep. So the only solution is to keep as little information about the current status of the Order in my mind as possible."

Suddenly, the gears in Hermione's brain started turning and everything fell into place. She gasped. "You're going to let yourself be obliviated? How much time? How many memories are you going to erase?"

He looked at her gravely, linking the fingers of his right hand with her left before answering.

"Well, when I was hiding away with Aberforth, we sometimes discussed Order business. The only truly safe option is taking away all of my memories since my supposed death in the Shrieking Shack."

She drew in a sharp breath. "So, everything that happened between us – will be gone from your mind? You will remember me as that terrible little know-it-all that tormented you so?"

He could see the pain in her eyes but it was the only way to go. He traced her cheekbone with a finger. "I need to be able to concentrate on the task at hand. I will be risking my life for this, and I need to stay on my toes. Any distraction could be fatal. If I knew about you… and what we have done so far… my mind would linger on it."

She wanted to scream, to yell at him – after all this time, after all that had happened – how could he expect her to just let everything go? To pretend that nothing had happened between them? But in the end, she stayed silent. He was right, and Order business was more important than her hurt feelings. "When?" was all she asked.

"Well, we'll need at least one more day to prepare and pack everything; also, I need to store away the most important memories of these two years – that is going to take some time." He smiled down at her. "I want to keep every memory that we made together, so I'll be busy for quite a while. I think two more days should suffice."

Her heart clenched in her chest at his words, and she slipped her arms around his neck, pulling him in for another kiss. "I wish there were a lot more memories of us together," she whispered against his lips.

He chuckled in response. "Ah, my little witch, that would be nice, wouldn't it? I wish we had the time. But as I said, I'll need at least one day to store the memories, then Flitwick will arrive tomorrow night, doing the memory spell on me. Afterwards, I'll be briefed in the evening about everything I need to know. The next morning, we are going to have a last Order meeting; then I'll be off to Bulgaria."

"So, in two days time, you'll be gone? And if you return from your mission, whenever that might be, all you will have left of these two years are the memories you're going to extract today?"

"Yes, although we are not going to use _Obliviate_ , but a new kind of memory loss spell that Flitwick came up with a couple of years ago. Theoretically, the memories are gone only until you reverse the spell. But practically, the spell has only been used a couple of times with different results – sometimes it took months for the memories to return, sometimes they returned partially, in one case not at all. Which is why I am going to preserve the most important memories, anyway. Just to make sure."

He kissed the place where her neck and shoulder joined. "I am not going to forget about us in the long run. Believe me – that is the last thing I want."

"So," she said, trailing a finger down his chest. "Are you sure you're not up for the next step before you have to leave? We still have one night together…"

His gaze turned serious. "Oh, Hermione, I wish we could. But I'm not quite there yet. I wouldn't want to start something that I might not be able to finish. What a horrible memory to leave you with – and for me to look at when I return. I want our first time to be perfect – and not rushed because of circumstances."

She sighed, but relented. He was right, and she did not want to push him.

There was one thing she still needed to ask him. "So, if you're going to erase all of your memories of the last two years, you'll be hating me again, remembering only the rude things I did without the reasons for doing them. I don't think my heart can take that. Isn't there any other way?"

He contemplated that, running a finger along his lower lip, which just gave Hermione cause for a deep sigh. Those deliciously shaped lips – there should be a law against that.

"Well," he said, "I've been thinking about it, too. The coin-code and everything that goes with it was your idea, and I guess most of my communication will end up with you anyways and vice versa. So it would be good if we could work together without any negative feelings getting too much in the way. I planned on writing a letter to myself before Flitwick's spell, so that when I come to without my memories of the last two years, all of you won't have such a difficult time convincing me of our mission. If the letter is in my handwriting and holds details only I can know about, I think I'll be able to accept that as the truth. I could put some false information about you in there, too – something detailing that we buried our differences and are able to have a normal working relationship without much of the former resentment."

"Without MUCH resentment?" she echoed. "So there will still be resentment?"

Snape laughed. That bastard laughed right in her face. "Why yes, of course. It must still be believable to me, right?"

She glared at him, grumbling. "Yeah, I'm starting to relate to your wish for resentment. Right now, by the way."

"Ah, my little witch, we've spent so many years resenting each other – we should be fine pretending." He smiled at her.

She glowered at him. " _I'll_ be pretending! _You_ will be truly resenting me!"

He chuckled at that. "True."

And then he winced when she slapped his chest. "You're enjoying this way too much, you know? I'll be stuck here, love-struck and alone, while you're on the other side of the world, completely oblivious!"

"Love-struck?" he echoed, watching her face with a glint in his dark eyes, "is that what you are?"

She felt the heat of a blush in her cheeks at her Freudian slip, but tried to cover it up with as much nonchalance as possible. "Well, it's just a figure of speech. You know what I mean."

"Uh-hm," was all he said to that, his eyes still glittering with mischief. Bastard!

...

 **A/N: *carefully peeks out behind a corner* Sooo... what do you think about that?  
PS: Reviews make new chapters come faster, help me out ;)**


	19. Chapter 19

**A/N: Thank you to SassenachStarbuck for getting this back to me so quickly and for the valuable input.**

Chapter 19

Hermione spent most of the day testing the modified coins. She had set up two master coins, one for Severus and one for the Order, though essentially, everyone just assumed Hermione would take it. She did not mind, either. She also connected another fake gallon to her master coin, which would store the information Severus had sent, just to make sure no important information would be lost.

She did not see Severus all day, but she knew he was in his room, storing away his most important memories and packing for the trip to Bulgaria. She still could not believe he'd be gone in two days with no memory of what had happened between them. She wondered what he would be writing in the letter to himself about what had happened between the two of them. It seemed unlikely for him to be lying to himself, so he'd probably word it in a way that led to wrong conclusions without being a lie in itself. For a moment, she wondered what she would say if he asked her what had happened between them, but then again, she realized – after losing his memories, he would be his old snarky self again, and not at all interested to know more about the thorn in his side.

She sighed at the thought of him looking at her with disdain again. How would she be able to bear it? She shook her head to rid herself of these thoughts and slid the coins from her hand into her pocket. It made no sense to worry about it now. They still had one night together, and she planned to make the most of it.

….

It was late evening when she knocked at his door. Just in case he was still extracting memories, she did not want to apparate into his room. After a minute, she heard footsteps and he opened the door to allow her inside. He was already dressed in the soft shirt and pants he slept in at night, and looked utterly exhausted.

The table was covered in little vials, all of them holding a shimmering, silver substance. Hermione gasped. "That must have taken hours for you to accomplish. Are these all of the memories you want to keep?"

"Almost." He smiled at her, and she could see a warmth in his eyes. "The ones with you, I am going to extract tomorrow. I want them to still be vibrant tonight. If I extract a memory, it is not gone yet – I can still remember the core events – but the emotions tied to the memories are gone. And I want to keep those as long as possible with the memories I have made with you."

She sighed contently and stepped into his arms. Her hand came up to trace the lines of his face, and again she noted how tired he looked. She took his hand and led him to the bed, slipping between the covers. Soon they were nestled together, her head resting on his chest, listening to the steady beating of his heart. As if on their own accord, her hands started moving over his body, her fingers trailing softly over the skin of his arms, committing the feeling to her memory.

He turned to face her, capturing her lips in a soft kiss. They took their time exploring each other with their hands and mouths, legs sliding against each other as they savored the last night they were allowed to spend together. She could have gone on kissing him like that forever, and probably would have, had she not felt so guilty about his exhausted state. When she pulled back, he gave her a drowsy smile that told her more than anything how close he must be to passing out to show her such a tender expression. A soft sigh escaped him when she kissed the side of his neck, but when he kept silent as she brushed her lips along his shoulder, she looked up at him. A smile stole over her face when she realized he must have fallen asleep. She brushed a lock of hair from his face and then molded herself to him as close as she could get, burying her face in his neck to breathe in his scent. Soon, she drifted off to sleep.

…

When she woke the next morning, he was already awake, staring at the wall, unseeing, one arm still slung around her.

"Lost in thought?" she inquired.

He smiled down at her. "It's going to be a long day and there still is a lot to do. Starting with removing the last memories."

"Will I see you later?" she asked. A frown appeared on his face as he pondered her question.

"I think it'd be wise to avoid each other for the rest of the day. I don't know how I am going to feel about you once the emotions tied to the memories are gone. So let's not try to find out. Besides, what last memory could be nicer than this?" he said, kissing the top of her head.

"Well," Hermione spoke hesitantly, but with humor in her voice, "there are one or two things I could think of…" she said, trailing one of her fingers along his collarbone.

He chuckled. "Cheeky little minx," he murmured before slipping out of bed. Hermione sighed wistfully, then threw back the covers to get up, too. Not much sense staying in bed any longer when he was up already, she thought, smiling to herself when she thought about the night spent in each other's arms. She would miss that more than anything.

…..

The day passed quickly enough, and before she knew it, the fireplace flashed green and Professor Flitwick stepped out, a warm smile on his face.

"Miss Granger, what a pleasure! How are you?" He busied himself dusting off some specks of ash before crossing over to the couch, taking a seat across from Hermione.

"Professor Flitwick! How nice to see you! How is everything going at Hogwarts?" Hermione bent to retrieve a second cup of tea, offering it to Professor Flitwick, who accepted it thankfully and took a sip before describing recent events at the school.

"You know, Miss Granger," he said after some small talk, "I miss having such a gifted student like yourself around. I enjoy teaching, but I have to admit, the years teaching you have been a special pleasure. I have seldom seen a student with that much promise in charms. It's like you have an inherent gift, an instinct, so to say, as to which charm will work in which situation." He smiled wistfully, then. "You know, if you had not accepted that job at the ministry so quickly, I would have loved to offer you an apprenticeship. You would have made an outstanding Charms Mistress."

Hermione sat back, astonished. She had not known that Professor Flitwick had considered offering her an apprenticeship. The job at the Ministry of Muggle Affairs had been opened up for her by the Minister of Magic himself, and she had jumped at the chance without considering other options. Now she wondered if that had been the right decision for her. As much as she liked her job, truth be told, she strived on learning new things and acquiring new skills, something that an apprenticeship would have offered her. And she did have an affinity for charms. Before her thoughts could run off in a direction where she quit her job to become a Charms apprentice, she focused on the here and now, deciding to make the best use of Professor Flitwick's presence before he had to go and perform the spell on Severus.

"Professor Flitwick? May I ask you a question about the memory spells?"

He looked up at her with warmth in his eyes. "Sure, my dear, what would you like to know?"

"If I have understood correctly, with the spell you're going to use on Professor Snape, it is possible for the bespelled to regain their full memories after a counter-spell has been used on them. Do you think a counter-spell might be possible to use on other memory spells or charms, as well?"

His warm brown eyes rested on her, filled with compassion and sympathy. "Ah, dear, you're thinking of your parents, am I correct?"

"Yes, you're right. So – Do you think it would be possible to restore their memories?"

Flitwick hesitated a moment before speaking. "What you must understand about memory spells is that they cause different changes in the brain. Memories, as you well know, are stored in different parts of the brain. The more important a memory, the more often you think of it, so the pathways in your brain leading to those memories keep being reinforced and grow stronger. Minor occurrences are not thought about that often, so the pathways grow weaker and the memory is not transferred into long-term storage, eventually disappearing completely."

He held up his index finger as if to count. "If you use _Obliviate_ , you are cutting up all the pathways in the brain concerning certain memories. It is basically impossible to restore them, because you cannot reconnect so many pathways correctly."

He held up a second finger. "With the _Anisthetae_ spell that I'm going to use on Severus, I have only cut the main pathways leading to the memories. So the counter-spell restores them. The longer it has been, though, that the original pathways inside the memory storage have been used, the weaker they have grown, and the less likely it will be that they can be restored to full use."

A third finger joined the other two. "What you have done when using the memory charm on your parents is that you have cut the main pathways of the old memories, but you have created new pathways on top of them. It is very likely the new pathways have merged with the network where the old memories were stored. I am not sure there is a way to restore them. You would have to separate both networks completely from each other and reconnect the former pathways. I don't even know if this can be done. I'm sorry, Hermione. I wish I could give you more hope than that."

She sighed, having already expected something like this. Her heart hurt when she thought about her parents living in Australia, completely oblivious to her and their former life. She had always dreamt about going back and reversing the memory charms to finally be a family again – yet it seemed it was destined to stay a dream.

Professor Flitwick slid from the couch, patting her arm in sympathy. "My dear, maybe there is a way. I will try to read up on it and let you know if I can find out more. I must be leaving now, Severus is waiting for me."

She nodded at his words and whispered a thanks, but her mind was still on her parents. She kept watching the flickering fireplace as Flitwick left the room, her thoughts in turmoil.

…..

 **A/N:** **We're moving fast towards Severus losing his memories. How exciting! I can't wait for their first meeting afterwards, I'm sure it'll be fun ;)  
Please leave a review to feed the hungry muse :)**


	20. Chapter 20

**A/N: Thank you to SassenachStarbuck for getting this back to me so quickly! And FF . net: I do hope you get that dark curse on your server fixed. This is hell!  
**

 **In response to the reviews – No, Hermione is not going to give up on her parents that easily, don't worry. Also, I am not going to keep Hermione and Severus apart for too long, or have them suffer… too much *insert cackle here* ;)**  
 **BUT… for now, it is time for the return of the snarky Potions Professor.**

Chapter 20

Severus Snape sat in his armchair, watching the flickering flames of the fireplace. His long fingers toyed with a crumpled ball of parchment, tossing it back and forth between his hands. He was about to flick it into the fire when he restrained himself instead and slowly unfolded it to reveal a letter in his own handwriting. His eyes followed the lines again although he almost knew them by heart. Not that it was much anyway. There was a reason that they had taken away worth two years of his memories, so it was only logical to try to fill in the blanks with as little knowledge as possible.

It was very unsettling to being thrown into a reality where everyone had moved on and you were the only one left who remembered the past as if it were yesterday, because to him, it _had been_ yesterday. The last thing he remembered was lying in the Shrieking Shack, feeling the life bleeding out of his body and the cold seeping into his bones. He had not dared to hope someone would come to rescue him, but they must have. But, as it seemed, his worth was again defined by being a means to an end. His hands tightened around the parchment.

As he sat there, flooded with contempt and anger at being again a pawn in the chess game of the Order, he wondered how much of the resentment he felt could be contributed to the fact that he would have to work with Miss Granger again. The letter did not tell him much about what had passed between them during the last weeks, and all he knew was that she had apologized sincerely for her treatment of him in school. The reason she had given him had been so inherently ridiculous and utterly bizarre that he had felt it was punishment enough for her having to tell him about it, and had resolved never to speak of it again. He had not mentioned the reason in his letter, to his dismay, as it would have been nice to have something to hold over her.

At least, he had left himself with the assurance that Miss Granger was now subdued when in his presence and that he could be himself around her again. A silver lining, he thought with a smile and poured himself a glass of firewhiskey, flipping through his notes on Bulgaria.

Some time later, he slipped into his bed, trying to find some sleep which proved to be quite elusive. He sighed as he stared at the ceiling, then flipped himself over so that he rested on his stomach, trying to find a more comfortable position. It was as if his body expected to sleep in a certain pose or manner he seemed unable to find. Had he started a sleeping habit during those two years that his body was aware of, even if his mind was not?

He groaned in frustration as no matter which way he spread and twisted his limbs, something was just missing. Finally, he found an almost acceptable position when he arranged the pillows around himself, cradling one of them in his arms, feeling utterly ridiculous. Somehow, the soft pressure of the heavy down-filled cushions on his limbs soothed him, and he relaxed, resting his face on the pillow nestled in his arms. He drew in a deep breath, and felt comforted by a faint, soft scent that clung to the fabric. He wondered how he knew that smell, and why it made him feel so safe, but before his thoughts could form properly, sleep overtook him.

The next morning found him in bed, wide awake, dreading having to get up and face the day. He ate a small breakfast in his room, unwilling to meet any of the inhabitants of Grimmauld place just yet. It had been weird enough seeing Harry Potter the night before. The boy-who-lived had turned into the man-who-delegates. He had stayed after Flitwick had left, and had outlined the most important events of the last weeks, but not more than Severus needed to know to complete his mission. During his speech, Snape had treated him to his best icy stare, and watched Potter deflate back into the boy-who-lived. A deep satisfaction stole over his body at the realization that he still had a hold of power over Potter, that he had not lost his touch. He wondered about how the rest of them had changed in those two years, and who he would be meeting before he left for Bulgaria.

He packed the last of his things into his travel bag, surveying the room a last time before he stepped out of the door, closing it quietly behind himself.

* * *

He rounded the corner towards the kitchen where the meeting was supposed to take place when he found his path blocked by Miss Granger. He stopped dead in his tracks, regarding her warily.

She looked so different from the last time he had seen her, when she had still been his student. The soft lines of her face had sharpened, leaving her elegant cheekbones more pronounced. The same could be said of some other parts of her body. She had grown into a beautiful woman, indeed. Not that it mattered to him. Seeing her was disturbing in more ways than he could count, but in a few hours he would be in another country, anyway. Good riddance.

He waited for her to let him pass.

* * *

Hermione had been caught up in her thoughts when suddenly, Severus had appeared in front of her. At the sight of him, she was flooded with adrenaline, her heart racing off, her mind blank. What was she supposed to say to him? What could she say? What would he expect her to say?

She considered just saying: 'Hello, Sir,' but she thought that sounded rather daft. He might perceive something like 'How are you feeling?' as too personal. As she contemplated if 'It's nice to see you, Sir' sounded nice or rather like she was sucking up to him, his voice cut through the silence.

"Miss Granger," he purred, his words like shards of ice, "do I need to fill out an official application for a hall pass before you let me through or might you consider stepping aside _now_?" His black eyes bore into hers.

She jumped. "No, Sir – I mean, yes, Sir, of course." She flattened herself against the wall. "Sorry, Professor Snape," she mumbled as he swept by, not sparing her another glance.

"Oh – my – God," she whispered when she was sure enough he could not hear her anymore. For the first time since her fifth year, he was back to his old persona – the dark, snarky teacher whose eyes held fire and disdain, the way he had been before she had started sending those foolish visions that had upset the balance between them. The dark, snarky teacher that had made her heart sing with just the sneering curl of his lips. Whatever he had written in that letter to himself, it must have given him enough confidence to move on from what she had done back in her Fifth Year.

When he had barked at her in his old professor mode, she had felt like a student again, and before she knew it, she had obliged instantly while babbling devout reassurances. It annoyed her deeply that he still had such a hold over her, but she could not deny that another part of her, a much bigger part, sighed wistfully, fanning itself. God, it turned her on so much when he was all dark and sarcastic. She let out a small whimper and slid down the wall, burying her head in her hands. She needed to calm down now and get her libido in check. She would have to take part in the meeting, and she could not be sitting there with puppy dog eyes for Severus. Taking deep breaths, she tried to focus.

* * *

She was the last person to slip into the kitchen. Most of the table was taken up by the map covered in labeled pins, and people were crowded around it. Harry looked up, catching her eye and smiling. "Hey, there you are! Take a seat, we're about to start."

The only chair left available was the one next to Severus. Anxiety flooded her as she slipped into the seat, keeping her eyes on Harry. As she arranged herself into a comfortable position, her left knee came in contact with Severus' leg. He snatched it away as if he had been burned. Hermione suppressed a sigh, instead giving him a raised eyebrow and an annoyed look that was supposed to convey: _Merlin_ \- _I didn't do it on purpose!_ As well as: _I do not have a contagious disease_. He glowered at her in a way that told her he was not so sure about the disease.

She looked away and concentrated on breathing properly. The heat of the body to her left was very hard to ignore. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see his hands resting on the table. His slender fingers toyed with his wand, and she watched, mesmerized, as his index finger slowly stroked along an indentation in the wood. She loved the way his fingers looked – long, elegant, yet calloused by hard work. Strong hands. Capable hands. She knew what it felt like when they were stroking over her skin, and she had to suppress a pleasant shiver at the thought.

His fingers stilled on the wand, and she realized she must have been watching them for longer than she intended. For once, she was thankful for her bushy mop of hair. Her unruly locks spilled along both sides of her face, effectively hiding her face from view except for the people sitting opposite her. She worked on putting that far-away look onto her face that people get when they are listening intensely to a lecture and tried to focus on Harry's voice, who had started speaking while she had been immersed in her own little fantasy about Severus' hands. She leant back into her chair, folding her arms over her chest in what she hoped looked like a relaxed manner and kept her eyes on Harry.

"…so, hopefully, the library in Varna is going to yield some information regarding the artifact. We need to know more about its location as well as the basic makeup and purpose of whatever this artifact is. Professor Snape is going to relay the most important information from his research via coin, and we can cross check it with the books we have at the Hogwarts Library. Hopefully, this will also attract Dolohov's attention, and if all goes as planned, he will approach Professor Snape on his own."

He pulled a scroll of parchment from his pocket and handed them over to Severus. "Here is your contact information for Varna, we have booked a room for you already, and I will give you your portkey after you've had your instruction with the coins."

After handing it over, Harry cleared his throat and eyed Severus uncomfortably. "Well, we are going to discuss further Order business now that does not directly relate to your mission, so maybe it would be best if you and Hermione retreated to the library for her to show you how to use the coins while we go on here?"

Severus scowled darkly at that, but rose from his seat. "Well then. Miss Granger," he ground out. She turned to follow him as he strode out of the kitchen emitting unrestrained annoyance. She sighed as she watched him march down the corridor, all tight and buttoned up and deliciously dark. How was she supposed to not give her feelings away when he was just so magnificent? She put on her poker face and hoped for the best.

 **A/N: Mmmmh. Don't you just love a snarky Snape? Me, too. You know what I also love? Reviews! *wink, wink***

 **And who do I love most? You, my dear readers! Thank you for being on this journey with me!**


	21. Chapter 21

**A/N: Thank you to SassenachStarbuck for looking over this so quickly.**

Chapter 21

The door of the library burst open and Snape billowed inside. Hermione trailed behind, an amused look on her face. She closed the door softly in her wake and turned to see Severus standing next to the fireplace, scowling into the flames.

She looked around until she spotted a small table and levitated it between the two armchairs in front of the fireplace. She motioned for Snape to take a seat. He complied but held onto his scowl. When she was seated, he waved an impatient hand, motioning her to get going.

She raised her eyebrows at him and pulled the envelope out of the pocket of her robes as slowly as humanly possible. He narrowed his eyes at her, a menacing glitter lightening them up from the inside, and she decided to not play her luck. She opened the envelope and slid out the two coins, pushing one of them over the table towards Severus. His long, slender fingers picked up the coin, turning it towards the light to inspect it closely.

"The numerals on the rim can be raised in four different heights to form the basis of the code." She showed him the different wand movements needed and how to press the numerals into position. "We need one of them to code for a space in between letters, and one of them to code for the end of the word. Which leaves us with two different heights to base the letter code on."

She drew in a breath to continue, but he interrupted her. "Morse code," he said thoughtfully, "not a bad little idea. Complicated and a bit impractical to use for more than a short sentence, but virtually impossible to decode for wizards without very deep knowledge of Muggle culture."

She should not have been surprised that he had figured it out for himself, seeing that he had caught on the first time just as quickly, but still she could not help feeling impressed again at his keen mind. A small wave of bliss stole through her body at the veiled compliment of 'not a bad little idea.' He had never commended her for her ideas before and this was probably the closest that he had ever come to paying her a compliment. She worked very hard on suppressing a joyful smile.

To make up for his almost kind words, he kept muttering on about what a pain in the ass it would be to send those messages via coin, and that he would probably develop a tendonitis trying to get longer messages across.

She took up the envelope and slid out a blank piece of parchment, setting it in front of him with a smug grin. He picked it up, turned it over to look at the back and met her eyes with a confused frown.

She smirked. "I charmed it so that whatever you write on it will be transferred onto the coin. I matched each letter of the alphabet to a certain spell translating into its Morse code equivalent, and then added secondary spell to transfer the code onto the coins." She handed him a quill. "This piece of parchment is linked to your coin, so all you will have to do is release the message on the coin after the writing on the parchment has disappeared."

She could see from the look in his eyes that he was impressed, even if he did not comment on it. It had been a nasty piece of charm work, to be truthful. She'd stretched the limit of what she was able to do, but she could feel that she had not yet reached her full potential. Her thoughts strayed to Flitwick and his offer for a second before she forced herself to concentrate on the task at hand.

"Unfortunately, it only works in this direction – from parchment to coin, not the other way around. The coins have already been charmed in multiple ways to allow for the embedded code and the link between our master coins, so adding additional charms could have interfered with their basic function, and I did not want to risk that. So reading the messages will still have to be done using fingertips and code." She looked at him expectantly. "Let's try it out?"

He studied her for a moment, then picked up the quill and started writing. She kept her eyes averted and focused on the coin in her left hand. She felt it heating up and ran her finger once around it, starting the message. Her fingertips felt along the rim while she matched the Morse code to the alphabet in her head. She wrote down the letters on a piece of parchment in front of her. When the coin heated up once more and grew cold, she looked down to read: "Are we done now?"

Hermione gritted her teeth. Snarky old bastard. But she decided not to take it personal. Because it wasn't and she knew it. To him, she was his former student and it was a slightly uncomfortable situation for him; plus, he did have a bit of a sour disposition quite naturally. For Severus Snape, that answer had not even been that unfriendly. He just didn't care. And that was how it should be, she reminded herself. It was important that he was focused on his mission. Still, she would have to work with him and guard her heart all the while.

She decided the best strategy was to either play aloof or respond in kind. She did not mind a bit of sarcasm, herself. This time, she decided to go for aloof. She pulled out the piece of parchment that was linked to her coin and wrote with a flourish. "Sure thing."

As the handwriting disappeared, she gathered her things, packing them into her bag. As Snape looked up from his message, she rose from her chair, gave him a friendly nod and walked out of the library, leaving Severus staring after her with a slightly bewildered look on his face.

* * *

Severus Snape sat rooted in his chair, watching the doors of the library close quietly behind Miss Granger. Her behavior confused him. She was so different from the girl he remembered, and the quiet confidence that had taken the place of her constant pursuit of praise was a pleasant surprise.

He had been astounded at her charm work with the parchment. Multiple charms were a challenge, as well as linking two charms to one cause. But linking multiple charms as well as adding charms on a secondary level needed skills that were beyond most wizards or witches. He himself could not have mastered this. It seemed the brightest witch of her time was still going strong. For a moment, he wondered if she might have taken up a Charms apprenticeship before realizing where his thoughts had strayed to and with a snort, reminded himself that he really didn't care what Granger did with her life. It was bother enough that he would have to deal with her via coin.

Still, he didn't seem quite able to purge his mind of the last thoughts about her. She was a lot less annoying than he had thought, and a lot more intriguing than he had believed. Which, in turn, annoyed him very much.

So all was well in the end, he decided, and rose from his chair to get the portkey from Potter.

* * *

Snape picked up his travel bag and slung the strap over one shoulder, one of his hands checking a last time that his coat pocket held the parchments he needed as well as his portkey and started walking towards the door. He was about to reach for the handle when he heard someone speak up.

"Professor Snape."

He turned around so see Granger standing in the hallway, an unreadable look on her face. For a moment, he thought she was about to say 'Never mind,' but then she said: "Will you let me know when you've arrived safely?"

He stared at her for a moment before replying.

"Yes, mother," he said dryly.

He could see her annoyance in the glimmer of her eyes and wondered if she would turn around and stomp off. He had always enjoyed riling her. But then she blinked, and the glimmer in her eyes changed in nature.

"Thank you, honey, and do watch out for the local food," she drawled out sweetly, stepping closer. "You know how too much fenugreek upsets your sensitive bowels," she added, patting his cheek. Then she turned around and walked off, leaving him too bewildered to notice he had let her go without snarling an appropriate response.

He scowled darkly in the direction she had left. After a moment, he turned and opened the door. Taking a deep breath, he stepped outside.

* * *

 **A/N: Don't forget to brush your teeth, honey, and leave the nice little author a review, will you? ;)**


	22. Chapter 22

**A/N: Sorry for the long wait, so much work to do. To make it up to you, I am sending this out now, unbetaed. I hope the wonderful SassenachStarbuck will let me know if I missed anything so I can correct it later on.**

Chapter 22

Hermione spend the remainder of the day in deep contemplation. Severus' absence was like a hole in her life that she needed to fill. The last couple of days had upended her life in a way that seemed to spin it into new directions.

As much as she had liked working for the Ministry of Muggle Affairs, she could not deny any longer that she had secretly made up her mind already. Ever since she had talked to Flitwick and discovered the possibility of an apprenticeship in Charms, the thought had never strayed far from her mind. Even more so now that she was aware of the deeper workings of memory charms. She wanted to explore more, to find out if there was a chance to resurrect her parents' memories.

When Flitwick had told her about how memory charms and spells affected the brain, she had had a revelation. All her life, she had believed magic to be something outside of the scientific realm, but listening to Flitwick describe the changes to the neurons, she was not so sure anymore that there might not be a scientific explanation to magic. And if there was, maybe this was the way to find out how to reverse the memory charms placed on her parents. She had a basic understanding of Muggle science, and she was sure if she applied herself to more studies, she might find more connections between science and magic.

Before she knew it, she had picked up a parchment and written her resignation to the Department of Muggle Affairs, effective immediately. For a minute, she considered talking to Flitwick first to confirm her apprenticeship, but then she realized his answer would not matter. Her decision had been made. She would seek further education in the field of Charms, with or without Flitwick's help. She rolled up the parchment and went to find an owl.

* * *

A harsh wind whipped bouts of rain along the deserted street. The cold, icy drops pelted onto his hair and back, slowly soaking into the thick wool of his robes. The hotel was a short walk from the nearest apparition point, but already, he felt his shirt getting wet at his shoulders, rivulets of water running from the strands of his hair into his collar. He stopped in front of the hotel, taking in the imposing façade against the gloomy sky. He pushed open the door and went to find his room.

It turned out to be small, but adequate. The furnishing had seen better times, but it was clean and well-kept. He performed a drying spell on himself before stowing away his luggage. He sat on the bed, pondering what to do next.

Almost on their own accord, his fingers found the envelope in his coat pocket. He pulled it out, slipping the coin and the parchment into his waiting palm. Again, he could not help but be impressed by the formidable magic Granger had worked on both of them. He toyed with his quill, somehow feeling obligated to write to her, telling her he had arrived, and annoyed at the same time at this feeling of obligation. He owed nothing to no one. With a snarl, he pushed the coin and parchment back into the envelope, burying it in his coat pocket again.

He strode to the window, overlooking the city. A cluster of trees dotted a parking area opposite the street, and to the left of it he could see the high tower of the Municipality hall that nestled next to the Pencho Slaveykov Public Library. The grey building seemed less than appealing, but at least it was only a short walk away from his hotel. He would start his research in the morning.

Rain kept drumming against the window panes, and he dismissed the thought of finding a restaurant to eat, instead looking into what the hotel had to offer. He chose a simple soup and bread, dining in his room, his thoughts drifting.

After some time, he stood up, stretching his limbs and swiftly unbuttoning his clothes, turning in for the night. He pulled back the covers of his bed and slipped inside, shifting around to find a comfortable position. Again, it sleep as well as comfort eluded him. He sighed, running his fingers through his hair. He pushed back his blanket and strode to the chair where he had left his coat. He pulled out the envelope, smoothed out the parchment and dipped his quill into the ink pot. He hesitated for a minute, then swiftly wrote down: _Have arrived_.

He watched his handwriting disappear and snarled at himself for giving in and actually sending Granger the reassurance she had asked for. He stomped over to the bed, arranging the pillows around him. He pummeled the largest one in frustration as he knew he would only sleep if he cradled it, making him look like a sodding idiot. Whatever madness had caused him to adopt a sleeping habit like that?

* * *

Hermione paced the length of her room, the fingers of her left hand toying with the coin in her pocket. He must have arrived at the hotel hours ago. Worry gnawed at her stomach, although she knew he was most likely just ignoring her. It wasn't even as if she had expected him to confirm his arrival, as he knew it would irritate her, but still, she could not keep herself from wondering if maybe, something had happened to him.

She pulled out her parchment, pondering if she should write to him and inquire. It made her seem pathetic, but the more time went by, the more agitated she grew. Finally, she thought that she didn't care what impression he might get as long as she knew that he was safe. She was just about to dip her quill into the ink when she felt the coin heat up.

She gave a relieved shout and snatched up the coin, her fingertips flying over the numerals. She jotted the letters down on a spare piece of paper and smiled at the short message. She missed him so much her chest hurt.

She knew that no reply was needed, expected or wanted, but still, she touched the quill to the linked parchment and wrote: _Thank you_.

She had, after all, been worried about him. And even though she knew he'd sneer at her response, she did not regret sending it. He should know that someone cared about him, even if he was not aware of the true nature of her feelings. He would just have to get used to the idea that there was someone out there concerned for his safety – for more reasons than just the success of their mission.

She pushed the parchment back, stretching her stiff limbs before making her way over to her bed. Finally, she would be able to sleep.

* * *

The next day was spent making lists. Hermione poured all of her energy into planning her future. She wanted to propose Flitwick with a detailed plan of her apprenticeship. She would only return to Hogwarts if she was able to study in the field of memory charms, and Flitwick would have to approve of that topic on her master thesis. She outlined how she would like to study the deeper workings of memory charms, how they took root in the brain and which physical changes they were making to the neuron pathways. She wanted to cross-examine her findings with Muggle science methods, MRI being on the top of her list. She grew more excited as she was writing, sure to be on to something. She completely lost track of time, the parchment with her neat handwriting growing longer and longer, finally spilling over the front of her desk.

A knock on the door made her jump. She made an affirmative sound and turned around to watch Ginny step into the room.

"So, Luna, a nice bottle of wine and I are having a little get together in the library. Care to join us?"

Hermione stretched the knotted muscles in her back, thinking that it was a great idea.

"I'm in," she said and jumped up to follow Ginny.

* * *

Hermione was stretched out on the sofa, sipping on her glass of wine, only listening with half an ear to what Ginny and Luna were saying. The topic revolved around boys – although Ginny was in a happy relationship with Harry, she still liked to play match-maker for her friends. As it seemed, she had found a new victim in Luna. Hermione was very glad to have escaped her attempts so far. The weird situation with Ron probably accounted for that. They had never much talked about it, finding it both uncomfortable to talk about her brother in such a way, so Ginny was not aware that they had never consummated their relationship but had obviously assumed so. Hermione had never corrected her on it, secretly relieved that this way. It was a very private thing for her, and by now she was almost ashamed to still be a virgin at her age. Damn Severus for disappearing on her. If they had had just a little more time… She sighed into her glass of wine, taking another long sip and tuning back into the conversation.

"…Gryffindor Pajama party in our fifth year."

Luna laughed, involuntarily covering up Hermione's coughing sounds as she choked on her wine. "Oh, yes, that was fun. It was so sweet of you guys to invite me. It was as if you were my girlfriends!"

"We _were_ your girlfriends," Ginny said exasperatedly "We still are."

"Well, those were the times of the Blibbering Humdinger, everything seemed different back then," she reasoned with a serious expression on her face. "You could just feel those creatures feeding on the insecurities of people. Poor Lavender Brown was most affected."

Ginny snorted. "Ha! So true. She was a beast back then." She laughed, shaking her head and raising her glass to Hermione. "How you could forgive her for what she did to you so easily will stay a mystery to me forever. I bow to you. I would have scratched her eyes out, probably. We all couldn't believe it when we found out that night."

"Wait, what?" Hermione sat up, confused. She did not remember a single thing about that night having to do with Lavender Brown. "What did she do?!"

* * *

 **A/N: Ah, yes, do you still remember that there were some memories missing because Hermione was inebriated that night? Seems she forgot more than that fourth vision she sent Snape. What could that be? ;)**

 **Reviews feed the muse! :)  
**


	23. Chapter 23

**A/N: I had a wild and passionate affair with the Traggob during the last week and there was a wonderful synergy effect between the reviews and my writing, so I've poured most of my writing time into that, and had quite a bit of fun with it, if I may say so myself.**

 **NEVERTHELESS, this is my baby, so, I'll always come back to this story.**

 **ALSO, I have been dying for weeks to write this chapter, because it sheds some new light on something that happened at the very beginning of the story. I'm so excited to know your thoughts and reactions to this.**

 **Thank you again to the wonderful SassenachStarbuck for looking over this so quickly.  
**

* * *

Chapter 23

Ginny's eyes became big, round orbs before she burst into laughter. "Oh Merlin, Hermione! No wonder it looked like you had forgiven her, when in truth, you just did not remember a thing! And I had always admired you so much for it..." She let out another peal of laughter.

Hermione stared at her, half surprised, half annoyed. "Would you mind sharing what you're laughing about?"

Ginny sobered instantly under Hermione's scowl. "I'm sorry. This just came as a big surprise to me." She drew in a deep breath. "Well, when we were very tipsy from those liqueur filled sweets, Lavender was whining about how she would like to have some more chocolate that wasn't making her head swim. So you went to your room and returned with some Swiss chocolate candy that you had supposedly gotten from your parents."

Hermione felt something stirring in the back of her mind, some hazy memory, but no matter how hard she concentrated, she just could not grasp it. "Supposedly?" she asked, her bewilderment showing.

"Bear with me, we'll get to that in a minute. So, as I said, you procured that chocolate candy and popped one into your mouth, then offered one to Lavender. She declined politely, but you kept offering them to her. It was weird that she didn't want one because she had just been talking about it, so we were all wondering what was going on."

Ginny glanced at Luna to make sure she had gotten the story right and received a dreamy nod in return. Ginny did not have the best recollection of the night, herself. She could stomach more than Hermione, but the night had ended with a lot of swaying, singing and stumbling for her, too.

"And then, when she refused for the third time," Ginny continued, "you pulled out your wand and leglimensed her."

"What?" Hermione shot up straight in her seat. "I did what?"

Ginny grinned. "Oh, yes, it was quite spectacular. I mean I knew you had studied Legilimency to practice Occlumency with Harry, but the other girls had had no clue you could do such advanced magic. There had been rumors about you brewing a polyjuice potion in your second year, but no one knew for sure. They were flabbergasted when you used that spell on her. And that's how you found out about the chocolate candy."

"What about it?" Hermione was sitting on the edge of her seat, equally anxious and excited as she waited to learn more about the night that had disappeared from her memories.

Ginny slid forward in her seat, too, motivated by giddiness. "It turned out she had gotten some Slytherin boy to help her spike the chocolate candy with a lust potion and some compulsion spells. Then she hid them under the Christmas presents from your parents." She leant back to enjoy the look of horror on Hermione's face.

"The compulsive spells were to keep you from eating more than one at a time and to keep you from offering them to your friends."

Hermione frowned at that. "But didn't I offer them to Lavender?"

Ginny sniggered. "Yes."

"You didn't offer any to me." Luna piped up. "That was one of the nicest compliments I've ever gotten." She smiled her otherworldly smile at Hermione.

"Well, anyways," Ginny was eager to go on, "it turned out that dear Lavender thought you and Ron were becoming rather too close for her comfort, so she decided to send you on a new path using a lust potion."

"Wait just a minute," Hermione interrupted, holding up one hand. "Was she talking about a lust potion of a love potion?"

"A lust potion was what she had said, I'm quite sure. Is there a difference?" Ginny asked.

"Oh yes," Luna answered before Hermione could. "The name speaks for itself. Love potions evoke temporary love, Lust potions evoke temporary lust. The only difference is that lust potions only work for those who are already in love."

"But then…" Ginny frowned. "Shouldn't it have worked on you? I never saw you act any differently towards Ron."

Now it was Luna's turn to give a tinkling peal of laughter. "Oh, Ginny, Hermione was never in love with Ron."

"What?" Ginny looked baffled, and shot a look towards Hermione, who had just in time rearranged her features to keep the redhead from spotting her surprise at the fact that Luna seemed to have an insight into her that not even her closest friends possessed. She had only admitted to herself before that she had never really loved Ron. She had made herself believe back then that she was in love to cope with the reality that the one she really wanted would never be available to her, or even want her back. That Luna stated this as such a fact had shocked Hermione. But then again, Luna often seemed a lot more perceptive to hidden things than others.

"Erm, well," Hermione hedged, "you know, at the time I told myself I did love him but looking back now, I'm not so sure that I really was in love with him. I do love him, but… I don't think it ever was that kind of love."

She saw the gears turning in Ginny's head and was afraid of the questions that might rise to the surface now. She quickly pulled her back into the story: "But if the Slytherin boy was smart enough to put compulsion spells onto sweets, shouldn't he have known the difference between love and lust potions?"

"Hm," Ginny said. "You have a point there. But if I remember correctly, he had quite a thing for Lavender. He was probably hoping to use this as an opportunity to get close to her as well as to use it to get rid of his rival. Two birds, one stone."

Hermione nodded, thinking it might be a viable explanation. "So what happened after I legilimensed her?"

Ginny jumped back into the story eagerly. "Well, you told us everything you had seen so far in Lavender's mind about the potion and the spells, while she was dying of embarrassment right next to you." Ginny sighed, happily reliving the memory in her mind. "We could see how angry you had grown suddenly – I swear I saw some sparks run along one or two of your curls – and we all thought you'd curse her to Land's End. Then, suddenly, you became very still and your pupils dilated – the effect of the potion must have set in – and it turned you completely around. There was this smile on your face and in the next instant, you were off to your room, giggling something about how you had this great idea – I think you were even calling it a vision – and how we were not to disturb you and good night."

Ginny's face took on a slightly wistful look. "Of course, we all wanted to grill Lavender on the details, especially who she had had in mind for you when she used the potion, but she had slipped away during your little joyful speech and we only saw her again the next day. We were all having the most terrible hangover so no one was speaking to anyone. And then we kind of forgot about it." She frowned. "Maybe the Slytherin boy had something to do with that, too. It would fit the profile."

Hermione was still in shock, trying to wrap her head around what she had just learned when Ginny spoke up again, being her nosy, cheeky self: "Well, lucky for you that you had not been in love at the time, imagine what kind of embarrassing things you might have done."

Hermione blushed deeply at that, thinking back to those four visions and hoping fiercely that Ginny would take it as a reaction to her words and not a confession. She looked up at Luna to avoid Ginny's eyes and was again surprised to see a look of understanding in those wide, blue eyes. She wondered if the other girl somehow knew about her feelings for Severus. And then, she started wondering for how long she might have known about them, and if Luna with her perceptive ways had glimpsed some of what had transpired back then, her embarrassment eating at her from the inside.

"It doesn't really matter, though, does it?" Luna's airy voice floated through the room. "I would imagine some things are very private and not to be shared. We do not want to invoke any Blibbering Humdingers, so I think it's best not to keep musing about this."

Hermione didn't know if she had just had a secret understanding with Luna or if that girl was just having one of her peculiar episodes. Either way, she would take the out presented to her.

"I toast to that," Hermione said, drinking the last sip of her wine and getting to her feet. "This is a lot of information to digest, and I think I should sleep over this." She gave a small wave to the two others. "Good night."

Both echoed her words, and as she moved out of the room, she gave a small sigh of relief. She had seen the glitter of interest in Ginny's eyes, but she hoped that she could side-step any further questions without having to lie outright. She would never confess to those visions to a living soul.

It ate at her that she could not go to Severus and explain that there was finally a reason for her outrageous behavior. After all this time, it was such a relief to have an explanation for something that had been so out of character for her.

For a moment, she was overtaken by fury at Lavender and her mysterious Slytherin boy, but the longer she thought about it, the more she wondered if she would have ever had the nerve to make her intentions known to Severus' if she had not been under the influence of a potion. He was such a formidable man, and from his behavior towards her she would have never dared to believe he could see more in her than just his pestering ex-student. If Severus' was the gift she got in return for having to suffer through this outrageous manipulation, then maybe it had been worth it. Hell, if she could have Severus at the end, it had been more than worth it. With that, all of her anger evaporated, and what was left was the need to tell Severus about it, and the despair that set in when she thought about how long it might be until she might talk to him about such things again. For now, she couldn't risk the fragile professional relationship they had built.

She settled into her bed, and missed him terribly. Maybe if she increased their contact over the coin, his absence would not quite be so hard to bear. She fell asleep pondering what she could write to him about.

* * *

 **A/N: I don't know if some of the readers have noticed that the** _ **Anisthetae**_ **spell I have used in Chapter 19 stems from another SS/HG fanfic, _Hinge of Fate_ (although everything that I wrote about the way it affects the brain is purely mine). I love to incorporate some elements of other fanfics that I like. The distinction between the love and lust potion was also taken from another SS/HG fanfic, but unfortunately, I have forgotten which one, though I would like to give credit. If you know which one it was, please let me know. **

**And as always, remember: Reviews make new chapters come faster ;)**


	24. Chapter 24

**A/N: Thank you again to all of you that have reviewed, followed of favorited this story. It always makes my day and keeps me writing. Special thanks to gentledove2 and metafizyka ;)**

* * *

Chapter 24

His hand was sliding over silky soft skin, warm and vibrant to the touch. His calloused fingertips moved along the curve of her hip until they reached the soft underside of her left breast. The tip of his middle finger traced a small circle around a tiny mole. He moved his other arm up and cupped both of her breasts with his hands. A groan escaped him as he explored the soft texture, feeling the slender body under his hands move.

When he softly massaged the delicate flesh, a throaty moan escaped her. His eyes moved up to find her face. He could not see it clearly, as the only light in the room spilled across her upper body. Although he did not know who it was, his body responded eagerly. It seemed although his mind was not aware of who was sprawled in front of him, his body was. His hands knew instinctively when to linger and where to stroke, while his teeth found just the right spots to make her moan in pleasure. It was glorious, and he could not wait to finally be inside of her. He moved between her legs, spreading them as he pulled her closer. Finally, he lowered himself to join the two of them.

He looked up a last time, and realized that by pulling her closer, light was now spilling onto her face, revealing her identity to him.

Looking at him from under a tousled mop of hair, her eyes glazed with lust, was Hermione Granger.

/

Severus Snape woke with a start. What the fuck had just happened?

His body was brimming with need. The dream had left him close to completion, but he had not reached the final peak yet. The shock of seeing Granger's face on that woman's sensual body had brought him up short.

He tried to push the image of Granger out of his mind while his hand traveled lower. It had been so long since he had experienced a climax, and he thought maybe it was finally time to take back control and overcome those terrible memories that had been planted in his mind. They had haunted him for too long.

As he wrapped his fingers around himself, he tried to focus purely on the physical sensations as his body responded to his touch, trying to shut out everything else. To his surprise, it was not the dark memories that were hardest to keep at bay, but instead he found it most difficult to keep Granger's face and voice out of his mind. As much as he tried to banish them, they always seemed to return with a vigor. The sounds of desire and need falling from her lips were resounding in his head.

With a frustrated shout, he released his hold, heading for the shower instead. He refused to think of Granger while he was having a wank.

It took some time for the cold water to take care of the problem, but he would _not_ get off while thinking about a former student. Yet, obviously and rather unfortunately, it seemed he could not get off without thinking of _her_. How had that happened? He thought he had been successful in shutting away the memories of her visions, but obviously, they affected him still.

Furthermore, he mused, this dream had been completely different to the ones he used to have back at Hogwarts. For one, the scenery did not match those of her visions, when before, they had. Plus, her body in his dreams was now different – as if it were real, in a way, embellished with little details like that tiny mole or a spot of freckles.

He shook his head to dispel the thoughts. Maybe Granger's unexpected touch when she had patted his cheek had brought this on. She had breached a line, there, and he did not know how he felt about that. He was not used to being touched, especially not in an affectionate way, even if it had only been jokingly. It had left him feeling very uncomfortable. That, and something else. Something he did not want to examine any further right now.

Sighing, he realized that half a morning had been lost by his musings and immediately gathered his things to make his way to the library and resume his studies.

* * *

The dusty, rich smell of old parchment permeated the air of Hogwarts Library. Multiple tables were occupied with several large tomes spread open, notes sticking out between the pages at random. In between all of the chaos, a mop of bushy hair was bent over a long piece of parchment, scribbling furiously.

Finally, with an air of frustration, Hermione sat back in her chair, pushing some errand strands out of her face.

She had come to an agreement with Flitwick that she would have all of summer break to research to her heart's content before she approached him with the final topic of her thesis. She had read up on Muggle science as well as everything she could find on charms or spells that affected memory. Combining the knowledge of both fields, she had made fast progress, but now it seemed she had reached a dead end. For her to successfully conduct her research, she would have to find a way to make magic visible, consequently enabling her to discover and examine the affected areas in the brain by searching for magical residue.

All of the books she had found that might touch on this topic had so far yielded nothing. She had read some snippets here and there that had referred to a very old spell that had an effect similar to what she was looking for, but she had yet to find a conclusive reference or at least a place to start searching for it. Basically all of her carefully constructed hypothesis was dependent on her finding this spell.

She pulled her parchment closer, rereading what she had jotted down in the section labeled 'books to look for.' Those that might contain vital information, but could not be found at Hogwarts or any other means at her disposal went on that list. The most promising of the titles she had written down was _The Roots of Magic_. If what she had gathered so far was correct, it dealt with the origins as well as the basic makeup of magic. If the spell truly existed, this was her best shot. But where might she be able to find it?

Suddenly, an idea occurred to her, so simple that she could have slapped herself for not thinking of it before. She knew about a library that carried exceptionally rare books, as well as one rather snarky person currently having a look at them. Did she dare to write to him and ask for a favor?

She fingered the parchment in her pocket, then took it out to stare at it in deep contemplation. Finally, she picked up her quill to write:

 _/ If, by any chance, you came across a book called The Roots of Magic, would you let me know? HG /_

She sighed when the handwriting disappeared, feeling anxious about his reply. If he even replied at all.

* * *

Severus sat bent over a large tome, scribbling his notes on a long piece of parchment. When he felt the coin in his pocket heat up, he froze in his actions. His left hand slipped into his pocket to trace the rim of the coin while his right jotted down the letters he had matched to the code. He read the short message and scowled, before pulling out his linked parchment to write:

 _ **/ What is this about, Granger? /**_

After seconds, the coin heated up again.

 _/ It is just something I need for my research. /_

He frowned at that. If she had needed in her line of work for the Order, she would have declared it as such. Obviously, her need of this book was related to a private matter or whatever she did in her line of work. A small twinge of interest to know more about her sprang up in his mind, but he quickly shoved it aside. He should not muse on her more than he needed to. With a small smirk, thinking about her annoyed face upon reading it, he wrote:

 _ **/ Why should I do anything for you? /**_

He leaned back in his chair and crossed his ankles, amused at the length of time it took her to formulate a response. She was probably choking back her anger at the moment and was trying for a congenial response.

 _/ Because otherwise, I have to look for it in person, which would be detrimental to our mission. /_

He raised his eyebrows at her response. It seemed it was of utmost importance to her to find this book. And of course, he could not allow her to come to Varna. They could not be seen together. He sighed. There was no other option. With a growl of frustration, he wrote:

 _ **/ I'll let you know if I see it. Now bugger off. /**_

He pushed the linked parchment back into his pocket and picked up his quill to resume his work. He wondered how much time Granger would give him to find her damned book before she would pester him again. He put down the quill and grasped the large book that lay open on his desk, turning it over to read the title. _The Roots of Magic_ was inscribed in swirled letters on the cover. With a sneer curling the corner of his lips, he decided he would just find out how long it took her.

* * *

 **A/N: Hey you! Yes, I'm talking to you! You think your review does not matter? Yes, it does. Try it out ;)**


	25. Chapter 25

**A/N: Thank you again to all of you that have reviewed, followed of favorited this story. Special thanks to the guest reviewer who printed out the last chapter to read at her desk. That one had me smiling all day long.  
**

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Chapter 25

Hermione paced the length of her room, now and then stopping at the desk to frown at her linked parchment, her left hand toying with the coin. It had been a week since she had asked Snape about the book, but so far, she had not heard back from him.

She had taken the time to proceed with her research under the premise that she would be able to locate the spell. If she could not find it, everything she had worked on would fall apart. So far, she had practiced two spells that she needed to find the changes in the brain caused by memory spells.

Her research of wizarding healing practices had yielded an interesting spell that rendered tissue transparent. It had not been in use since diagnostic spells had been invented, allowing the healers to mend broken bones without having to look for them first.

She had practiced the spell on herself, spending days watching the muscles of her body work to move her ligaments and bones. It had been a fascinating, if eerie experience. When she was certain she had mastered the charm work, she linked it with a magnifying spell that allowed her to zoom in on what she was seeing. So far, she had achieved an effect that magnified her vision so much that she could make out the cartilage on her bones, but she needed to be able to see on a cellular level to be able to work on the neurons of the brain. There was a lot more practice to come.

She was making steady progress on that front, but her enthusiasm slowly melted away by the continued absence of any word from Severus about the book. By now, she had come to the conclusion that he must not be answering her on purpose. Of course, something might have happened to him to keep him from replying, but she thought the chances of that were rather slim.

Much more likely, indeed, was her suspicion that he wanted to annoy her by keeping the information from her until she had to ask for it again. Sneaky bastard.

She kept pacing the room, staring down the parchment. Finally, with a groan of frustration, she wrote down:  
 _  
/ Well?! ? /_

She sighed as the handwriting started to disappear. She knew that punctuation marks could not be translated by her version of the Morse code, instead being displayed at the same height as a word ending. Therefore, Severus could not know if she had not written "Well…" instead.

She quickly kept on writing.

 _/ I was wondering if you managed to have a look at the books yet regarding the one I was looking for. /_

She did not have to wait long until her coin heated up.

 _ **/ I have. /**_

Relishing in the notion that he would have no idea what exactly she had written, she scrawled:  
 _  
/ !'$% &#! /_

 _/ Is it there? /_

She waited, holding her breath. It seemed at least ten minutes had passed until she felt the heat of the coin.

 **/ Yes. /**

Her knees weakened with relief. If the book existed, most likely, the spell would, too. She needed this information if she wanted to have some viable results before the end of summer. This, again, posed a new problem all by itself. How was she to get into the possession of the information she needed? To go there in person was out of the question – it was too much of a risk for the two of them to be seen at the same place. Maybe if she made use of a Polyjuice potion...

She dismissed the thought instantly as it would take weeks for her to make it, and she didn't have the time.

There did not seem to be any alternative to asking Severus himself to relay the information to her in some way. She was loath to ask him for a personal favor again, seeing that it also took time away from his own research for the Order. She worried her lip, uncertain how to proceed when the coin heated up again.

 **/ Miss Granger _ _ _ _ /**

She smiled as her fingertips moved over several numerals raised at the height for a word ending, wondering what exactly he had written after her name.

 _ **/Did you just want to satisfy your curiosity concerning the location of said book or is there something you actually needed me to do? Otherwise, I would very much like to return to my own research. /**_

Her fingertips toyed with the quill as she wondered how to reply.

* * *

Severus' eyebrows rose as he read her response. She wanted to know everything about the _Visibilis_ spell. He had read the book from cover to cover and knew instantly which spell she referred to. What a coincidence that her research should lead her along the exact same lines as his. Again he found himself wondering what she did in her line of work.

The information he had gathered on the artifact had not yielded much valuable information so far, but it seemed that it was a magical device that produced a potion of desired effects, e.g. enhancing a certain magical skill, if used correctly. The problem was that no one knew how the device was to be operated. If everything worked out and Dolohov eventually approached him to ask for his assistance with the artifact, Severus would need the spell. This way, he'd be able to see the underlying charms of the device so he could try to unravel how it all worked. So far no one had been able to find any instructions as how to operate the device.

If there even was an artifact. He sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose with his fingers. He had no concrete information to go on, and living in this state of limbo was slowly driving him crazy. He did not have anyone to talk to (not that he usually talked much or even wanted to, but it was nice to have the opportunity, even if he practically never made use of it) and nothing to do besides his research. He would have given his right hand for a potions lab just to have something else to do besides sitting in the library or his hotel room.

As such, Granger's intrusions were not as unwelcome as he had first deemed them to be. It amused him to rile her, and even if he would never admit it to himself, he had felt a sudden rush of happy excitement when his coin had heated up.

He pondered her request. There was a whole chapter on the _Visibilis_ spell, but the relevant information to perform it was summarized on one page. It should be enough for her to work with.

Yet, remembering all those potion essays of Granger's, always packed with extra information and longer than required (which led to him having to spend twice as much time correcting them), Severus thought she could just do with some extra information.

He pulled out his dict-o-quill and placed it on his linked parchment, reclined in his chair and pulled _The Roots of Magic_ into his lap. Checking the chapter length – 18pages of fine script – he cleared his throat and started to read.

* * *

Hermione sat at her desk, cursing her burning fingertips. Parchments piled high all around her, filled with her handwriting.

She stretched her aching limbs and shook out her hand to loosen the knotted muscles. She had been at it for three hours and had finally reached the end of the chapter about the _Visibilis_ spell.

He must have used a dict-o-quill and read it out loud, she figured, otherwise his hands would have been cramping by now. Of course, translating it back from the coin was even more of an effort.

Giving a deep sigh, she slid further down in her seat, contemplating taking a long, hot bath. The temporary quarters she had been assigned at Hogwarts offered a gigantic tub with a breathtaking view of the lake. Something she would make use of a lot during the next few weeks.

A frown appeared on her face when she realized the coin had not cooled. Experimentally, she ran her finger around the rim again.

 **/ Table of contents /**

Hermione groaned. Although she really wanted to get her hands on as much information as she could – pun not intended – she didn't think she could take any more. The skin of her fingertips was just short of peeling off. Maybe she could leave it and continue in the morning…

With a desperate moan, she realized she would not be able to sleep unless she finished all of it. Cursing, she picked up the coin and went to work. Luckily, there were only 25 chapters listed. She held her breath when she had written down the last word:

 **/ Glossary /**

She eyed the coin with suspicion, not putting it past Severus to even read out the glossary itself just to spite her, but luckily, he had spared her that. The coin had cooled and she rested her forehead on the smooth surface of her desk.

* * *

Severus was settled back on his bed, propped up by pillows, with a book in his hands. His fingers, about to turn a page, froze in the air when he felt a spot of heat at the side of his leg. He put the book aside and slipped his hand into his pocket, his fingertips running over the warm surface of the coin.

 _/ Thank you so much for putting your time and effort into helping me. It was all I could have wished for. I think it is more than enough to continue with my research, so I do hope I will not be needing more of your assistance in locating further information. Indeed, it turns out, the previous owner of the quarters I have been assigned in Hogwarts left a rather nice collection of books on related topics, most of them belonging to a certain Eileen Prince. /_

Severus snarled. They had put that little chit into _his_ quarters. Of course he had not had any opportunity to reclaim his belongings, so everything he had owned was probably still there. Minerva had stowed away his personal possessions before letting anyone stay there, he was sure of it, but obviously, she had not deemed it necessary to remove his books from his library. He growled when he thought about Granger pilfering his collection. Lounging on _his_ couch. Sleeping in _his_ bed!

No, don't go there. He stopped himself before he could think up more scenarios including Granger and his bed.

How dare she…

 _/ Actually, the quarters were a pleasant surprise in many ways. Currently, I am soaking my sore fingertips in the most magnificent tub, enjoying a breathtaking view of the lake. I wish you could see it. The view, I mean. /_

If Severus could have gaped at the words, he would have. As it was, he had translated everything in his head, so all he could do was frown at the coin. Insolent little chit.

Summoning the linked parchment and a quill, he quickly wrote.

 _ **/ As long as you do not make use of the red bath crystals, everything should be fine. They're not for the faint-hearted. /**_

With a smile, he put the parchment aside and retrieved his book, waiting for her to take the bait.

* * *

 **A/N: * throws out new chapter as bait, fishes for reviews *  
**

 ** **Any thoughts on the crystals?****


	26. Chapter 26

**A/N: With the last chapter, the question arose where Severus' quarters are located at Hogwarts. I don't believe there is a definite answer in the books and I have read fanfics where it is overlooking the grounds as well as fics where they were in the dungeons. As the last one I have read stuck in my head as overlooking the grounds, I hinted at that in the last chapter. Gentledove2's review made me rethink this, though, as I agree it would make most sense if they were located close to his office, which is why I changed two small words in Chapter 25 to allow for them to be located underground.  
**

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Chapter 26

Hermione finished arranging the piles of parchment on her desk, shrinking them down to a more manageable size. Her limbs felt leaden and she kept thinking back to that magnificent, deep bathtub. Deciding she deserved the treat, she went into the bathroom and opened the faucets, letting hot water stream into the tub.

She went back to the desk to retrieve her dict-o-quill. After about an hour of writing down the chapter by hand, she had come to the realization that he must have used a dict-o-quill and had cursed herself for not thinking of it herself. She had not used one before, although she owned one. It had been one of those Christmas gifts that were well-meant but that she never used. Writing information down by hand had the benefit that the brain needed not only to employ language but also motor skills, thus processing the information on a deeper level than if only language was used, as it was the case with the dict-o-quill. Therefore, she had never used it as she wanted to learn as efficiently as she could. Now, though, she was immensely relieved to be able to switch the coin between both hands and leave the writing to her dict-o-quill.

Frowning at it, she decided it might also be of use if her hands were wet, as they would be if she was soaking in her tub. She knew she needed to relay some kind of thank you to Severus, and maybe she could do both at the same time. Picking up the quill, the coin and the linked parchment, she returned to the bathroom.

The water had risen high in the tub, so she turned it off and rid herself of her clothes. The hot water stung her skin, but as the heat soaked into her knotted muscles, she moaned in pleasure. Expelling a deep breath, she focused on the magnificent view offered to her. Half of the wall was taken up by a gigantic window displaying dark green water plants slowly swaying in the murky depths. Light filtered through from the surface, glinting off the scales of small fish that were darting through the water. It was as if the window opened into another world, one that ran on a slower rhythm - a calmer, quieter world. She felt herself relax even more, allowing her thoughts to stray back to Severus.

Although he had mostly done it to annoy her, she was sure, she was eternally grateful to him for relaying all of the extra information he had included. She wanted to thank him for what he had done, but she had to be careful how she worded it. So far, their relationship had been on an equal basis, and to keep it that way, she had to show him that she was grateful but the same time include something to get back at him for his attempts to rile her. To keep the balance, she should pay him back just a little bit. There was one thing she was sure of that would annoy him quite thoroughly. She smiled to herself as she thought about how she could word her response.

She cleared her throat and flicked her wand towards the dict-o-quill. "Thank you so much for putting your time and effort into helping me. It was all I could have wished for."

 _And more_ , she thought, studying her ruined fingertips that were starting to crinkle.

"I think it is more than enough to continue with my research, so I do hope I will not be needing more of your assistance in locating further information." She bit her lip at that, regretting that it also meant she had no further reason to contact him. She missed him so much. Not that she could let him know. She had to remind herself again that to him, she was only a nuisance.

Time for payback.

"Indeed, it turns out, the previous owner of the quarters I have been assigned in Hogwarts left a rather nice collection of books on related topics, most of them belonging to a certain Eileen Prince." She was not sure if he had known that she knew the name of his mother, but now she had made it obvious that she did. He must be fuming to know she was allowed to use his former quarters, even if it had been stripped of all personal possessions except for his books. And she had known that books were the place to strike. He held them in equally high regard as she herself did. She smirked at the thought of how much it would peeve him to think about her handling his personal collection.

And the tub, she thought to herself, this magnificent, deep miracle of a tub was something he would have surely missed, especially given the extraordinary view into the depths of the lake. She grinned to herself, and before she knew it, she had already spoken the words:

"Actually, the quarters were a pleasant surprise in many ways. Currently, I am soaking my sore fingertips in the most magnificent tub, enjoying a breathtaking view of the lake. I wish you could see it."

Only when the words had left her mouth did she realize that one could easily mistake them, taking "it" to mean more than the underwater scene displayed in the window. Her cheeks burned as she quickly added. "The view, I mean."

Covering her face with her hands, she fully submerged herself in the tub, wondering where her attempt at payback had taken a wrong turn. Gods, what would he be thinking? Would he even reply to that?

When her lungs started to burn, she broke the surface, gasping for air.

Eying the coin she had placed on the side of the tub, she carefully extended a finger and hesitantly touched it. It was warm. Her stomach churning with anxiety, she picked it up, her fingers instantly working to read the code. After three hours of practice, it hardly took any effort at all.

 _ **/ As long as you do not make use of the red bath crystals, everything should be fine. They're not for the faint-hearted. /**_

Her eyes instantly snapped to several jars on the shelf. Each of them held crystals of a different color – lavender, mint green, off-white as well as crimson red.

She bit her lip as she pondered how to proceed. It would be stupid of her to try anything he had warned her about, but at the same time, she knew that he had planned for her to try it, so it could not be something that would do any real damage to her. Which basically left her no option but to try it if she did not want to appear a coward.

She slid along the tub until she could reach the jar and poured a generous scoop into the bath water. She put the jar back and reclined in the tub, waiting for the red crystals to take effect.

After what seemed to be a span of several minutes, finally, a tingling started all over her body. It felt as if tiny bubbles were moving over her skin. It was a pleasant sensation and she suppressed a giggle when it tickled.

The bubbles seemed to move faster, heating up, until the temperature became uncomfortable. The heat burned along her limbs, ever increasing, and she did not know how much longer she would be able to stand it. The phrase "not for the faint-hearted" floated through her mind and she ground her teeth in an effort to withstand the desire to jump out of the tub screaming. Her hands were gripping the sides of the tub, knuckles turning white until she could bear it no longer. The scream she had suppressed for so long rose from her throat. "GNAAAAAAAAARGH!"

She practically flew out of the water, almost tripping as her wet feet hit the tiles. "What the fuck?!" she shouted, grabbing a towel to wipe frantically at the last drops of bathwater clinging to her skin. Breathing hard from the exertion and the pain, she wound the towel around her wet hair before bending forward, bracing her hands on her knees.

The heat had finally subsided and her naked skin started prickling in the cool air of the bathroom. Goosebumps sprang up, and suddenly she was shivering. Grabbing her pajama and her robe, she quickly slipped into her clothes and fastened the sash of the robe around her midsection. She gave a sigh of relief. She had made it through.

Bending down to grab her discarded clothes, she felt a strange tugging at her navel. What the heck was that? The sensation spread, turning into an uncomfortable throbbing. She straightened up, but it kept expanding. The fabric that had been so soft a minute ago seemed to be made of steel wool in the next. It felt as if her skin was scratched raw wherever her clothes touched her. The pressure of the sash seemed to rake her skin and she hissed at the sudden flare of pain. She needed to take off her clothes now. NOW!

She muttered at herself to move faster, but her hands were clumsily fumbling at the sash. She tugged at it in desperation, but instead of loosening the knot, she had somehow tightened it. "Oh no, please," she groaned, trying to tug the robe over herself, nearly strangling herself in the process. Giving an anguished cry, she lunged over to where her wand was resting on the tub to shout: " _DIVESTO_!"

"Oh yes," she moaned when the cool air hit her skin and she was finally free of her clothes. Her panic subsided. What the hell was in those crystals and why would anyone want to subject themselves to such an experience?!

She heard a scratching sound and spun around. "Oh shit!" she shouted.

* * *

Severus sat on his bed, a small smirk on his face. The book was still open on his lap but his thoughts were occupied with Miss Granger and how she would handle the situation.

He had created the crystals for his personal use. The aftereffects of a prolonged exposure to the Cruciatus curse were a coldness that spread to the bones as well as loss of feeling in the extremities. Untreated, this meant a loss of fine motor skills for at least half a day, and he could not have afforded that. The dissolved crystals worked in two phases – the first one heated the body, increasing the circulation in the extremities. The second phase stimulated the nerve endings in the skin, restoring the feeling in his fingers and toes. He wondered how it affected a body that was not suffering under said after effects. He could only imagine the skin would feel quite hypersensitive.

He was positive that she would not be able to resist trying out the crystals, but he wondered how long she would push herself to stay in the water just to spite him. She'd probably try to withstand the sensation until her subconscious would force her to catapult out of the water. He'd probably never know, as he figured she would not be much inclined to write him back to relay her experience.

He was all the more surprised when his coin started heating up. When he started to translate, he first thought there must have been some mistake until he realized that her dict-o-quill had relayed the information from sound as best as it could.

 _/ GNAAAAAAAAARGH! What the fuck?! … phew… oof … /_

He smirked, knowing that at this point she must have jumped from the tub, thinking the worst part was over.

/ _What the… oooohh… gnnnn…. Oh no, please… /_

Ah. Phase two.

 _/ come on, COME ON! … Hghn… gnnnn… grfngn… arrgh… /_

What was she doing?!

 _/ DIVESTO! /_

Ah. Severus sniggered, imagining Granger in combat with her clothes.

 _/ Oh, yes!... Mmhh… /_

He tried not to think about that.

 _/ Oh shit! FINITE INCANTATEM! /_

Severus tried to imagine Granger's face as she realized the dict-o-quill had written down her every word and grunt. His deep laugh resounded in the room.

Snuggling deeper into his bed, he decided he would sleep very well tonight.

* * *

 **A/N: I really enjoyed writing this!**

 **I do hope you will enjoy writing a review. * author batting her eyelashes at you ***


	27. Chapter 27

**A/N: Thank you again to all of you that have reviewed, followed of favorited this story. You're the best!  
** ** **I'm sending this out unbetaed because I was running late, I do hope the wonderful SassenachStarbuck will let me know if I've slipped up somewhere.****

* * *

Chapter 27

„Noooo!" Hermione shouted, racing towards the cabinet where she had placed the parchment and her quill. When she reached it, she saw the last lines disappear:

 _/ DIVESTO! /_

 _/ Oh, yes!... Mmhh… /_

 _/ Oh Shit! FINITE INCANTATEM! /_

"Noooo!" Hermione clamped her hands in front of her mouth as she thought about Severus reading those lines right now. Shit! There was nothing she could write to him after that. How utterly embarrassing. Why, oh why had she forgotten about the dict-o-quill?

* * *

When she slipped into her – _his_ – bed, the embarrassment that kept churning in her stomach started to subside as a new wave of feelings sprang up. She missed him so much – his touch, his taste, the way he looked at her, thought of her… all gone.

They had agreed that he could not keep any memories of their shared time, but the more she thought about it, the more she contemplated if they could not simply start over. Who knew how long it would be until he returned? She had involuntarily sent some rather suggestive messages anyways. Maybe she should just go and run with it.

Should she dare to pursue him, even though he had not seemed the least bit interested after the loss of his memories? She worried her lip. Well, she did have some time to think about it, as she surely would not be the first to write back and he might not ever reply again. She had enough pressing matters now that she could go on with her research.

Sighing, she snuggled deeper into her pillows, cradling one of them and wishing it were him.

* * *

She spent the next week perfecting the _Visibilis_ spell. First, she transfigured mug into a toaster, then cast the spell. The toaster lit up, encased in a network of fine silver lines with a yellow shimmer to it. She touched it and watched the network shine brighter where they pooled around her fingertips. Intrigued, she ran her fingertips over the surface, watching the lines ripple. Next, she changed a pencil into a watch, casting the spell and observing the same silver lines with the yellow sheen. She transfigured several more objects with similar results.

Next, she placed a potted plant on her desk, turning it into a sunflower. As she cast the spell again, she was surprised to find the network of lines pulsing and moving in a slow rhythm. Obviously, it affected living matter differently. Scribbling down her results, she contemplated how to explore the spell further.

Over the course of the next few days, she intensified her studies, working up from insects to mammals. Depending on the size of the animal as well as the nature of the spell, results would differ in the way the network pulsed or in changes to color of the sheen.

Still, she had not yet used it to look at the one thing she was really after – making spell changes to the brain visible. Luck was on her side, though, when only three days later, a perfect opportunity arose.

* * *

It was late evening when Hermione heard someone pounding on her door. When she opened it, wearing her robe and a scowl, she was surprised to find a desperate Hagrid on her doorstep.

"Hermione, I'm so sorry to bother you this late. It's really urgent." He had a rather sickly look on his face. All her ire melted away and she waved him inside.

He folded himself onto her couch which groaned under the strain. Hermione settled in the chair opposite and regarded him expectantly. His eyes darted to the side and he seemed rather reluctant to speak. He must have gotten himself into quite a mess again.

"Hagrid, what is it? A dragon? An orphaned giant spider? It can't be worse than that."

Hagrid grumbled again and Hermione could have sworn that under they bushy explosion that was his beard she saw the telling shade of a crimson blush.

"You know," he mumbled, "sometimes people make mistakes. Really stupid mistakes. And then they wish they had not made them. But of course, that's not possible, is it? But what is possible is removing that horrible, shameful memory from one's mind."

He gave her a pleading look.

"You know," she said, "that I need to know what happened to successfully obliviate you, right?"

Hagrid gave a deep sigh that rippled his beard. "I was hoping there was another way."

"Come on, Hagrid, after all that we've been through together, I think you can confide in me, don't you?"

"Yeah, I do, Hermione, I really do trust you. It's just… so embarrassing. I cannot believe I did that… so drunk, Hermione, I was so drunk! And when it was over and I regained my senses, I downed a sobriety potion and came here straight away. I won't be able to sleep with that haunting my mind. You need to take it away."

The way he fidgeted and danced around the subject left her with only one conclusion – the only thing he'd feel that uncomfortable talking about must be sex.

"Who was it, Hagrid? Who did you sleep with?"

He buried his face in his hand, mumbling something that sounded like 'humgi'.

Hermione frowned, confused. Humgi? Who or what did she know that sounded like Humgi? The only thing she could come up with was a Blibbering Humdinger, yet that seemed rather unlikely.

"I'm sorry?" she ventured.

With a wail, he dropped his hands. "Umbridge," he moaned.

"Noooooo!" Hermione was shocked and appalled at the same time. And very amused. She fought down the snort that was trying to work its way up her throat as she imagined that pink toad bouncing around on… no, don't go there. She shuddered.

"Hagrid, really? Umbridge?! How in the world?"

"Whiskey, Hermione. Lots and lots of whiskey. Please, can you take that memory from me? I'm begging you!" He turned his watery eyes on her.

"Of course, Hagrid, I'll have it done in no time."

Biting her lip, she regarded him quizzically. "Hagrid, would you mind if I performed a spell on you that I need to examine for my research? It's painless, you won't notice at all."

"Yes, sure, Hermione, whatever you need. Just make it disappear."

Grinning, she raised her wand, casting the spell that turned tissue translucent. The top half of Hagrid's head seemingly disappeared as everything higher than his upper lip suddenly looked as if they were made out of glass. It was a very strange sight, giving his head a squished look.

"Obliviate!" she said, watching his brain closely. She did not see any changes, but had not expected to. They were on a cellular level and she did not know which region of the brain occupied the actual memory. She cast the Visibilis spell, and suddenly, to her astonishment, several areas of Hagrid's brain flared up. She identified four different spots, all emitting their sheen in a different color: green, blue, orange and pink. Also, the areas were pulsing at different speeds. Whereas the green, blue and orange areas pulsed only slightly and in a slow rhythm, the pink area pulsed almost hectically, the network shivering.

She used the magnifying spell to zoom closer into the pink area until she was able to see on a cellular level. Before her, the axons of nerve cells formed pathways that interconnected with hundreds of neurons, a delicate but formidable construction. At random, pathways were severed, the slashed fibers leaking cytoplasm into the surrounding tissue. The damage was obviously fresh, so it must have been her Obliviation that had caused the pink area in his brain.

Zooming out, she regarded the other three areas, treating them to a closer look. Here, she could also find severed pathways, but they were no longer leaking. She was surprised to find the damaged neuronal cells still there, having expected them to be deconstructed by the body as it was normal with cells that had been ruptured. Instead, they seemed to be preserved in some kind of stasis spell.

They looked withered, though, and she wondered if they would ever be able to work again if one took the time to reattach each axon with its severed end, reconstructing the complete network. Not that she had found a way to do that yet. But this discovery had her heart beating faster in her chest. The cells were still there – there was a possibility that memories lost by the _Obliviate_ spell might be reversed. Her heart sang in her chest. She wished she could tell anyone, but her friends would not really understand what she was talking about. She wished she could tell Severus. He would understand. He always knew everything about anything.

Snapping back to the present, she released her spells with a swift _Finite Incantatem_ and sighed in relief as the top of Hagrid's head reappeared. It had been very disconcerting to be able to look into his mouth through the top of his head where his tongue had nestled like a happy giant slug.

"Hermione?" Hagrid looked at her, bemused and obviously uncertain what he was doing at her place.

"Well, thank you for the visit, Hagrid." She steered him to the door. "Be a bit more careful next time with the whiskey."

"Whiskey?" Hagrid mumbled as she pushed him gently out of the door and closing it swiftly behind him. She really needed to think about what she had seen.

* * *

Resting on her – _his_ – bed, she turned the same thoughts in her head over and over again. Why had the same spell – all four instances had obviously been Obliviate spells (What in all of the world had Hagrid been up to?!) - shown up in different colors? The speed of the pulse could relate to how much time had passed since the spell had been cast, and the richness of the color usually related to the intensity of the spell. But why different colors?

She gnawed on her bottom lip, coming up empty. Would he know? She slid her hand into her pocket, sliding out the coin and the parchment.

She had resigned herself not to be the one to write to him first after the incident with the dict-o-quill. But know she found her resolve wavering. What if he knew what the colors meant and her own embarrassment was keeping her from acquiring the knowledge she needed?

Picking up her quill from the nightstand, she hovered with the tip over the parchment until she finally dipped it down to write:  
 _  
/ You've been a lot on my mind lately. /_

She sighed as she watched the line disappear, wishing she could just leave it like that. She wondered what he would think of her if she did. Not giving in to temptation, she continued.

 _/ You see, I have been working with the Visibilis spell for the last days, but there are some questions that still remain unanswered. I was wondering if there was a chance you had any knowledge about the practical use of the spell? /_

She put the quill and parchment aside but kept the coin clasped firmly in her hand as she nestled deeper into the covers. Her fingertips lovingly caressed the numerals on her galleon. It was her only connection to Severus. She thought about what he would think when he read that first line that she had sent him. She had worded it that way on purpose, wanting him to wonder what exactly she had wanted to convey with that.

Would he be annoyed? Pleased? Or would he sneer his disparaging sneer?

Sighing wistfully, she waited for his response.

* * *

 **A/N: So, what is Severus going to think about that?**


	28. Chapter 28

**A/N: Thank you again to all of you that have reviewed, followed of favorited this story. It brightens my day!**

 **In response to DragonIris' question - my guess is we're about half way with the story. That being said, it's only a guess as I am writing chapter for chapter.  
**

* * *

Chapter 28

Severus snapped to attention as the coin in his pocket started to heat up. It had been so long since he had heard of her. As much as he had enjoyed playing that trick on her, he had wondered if she would have written more to him if there had been no dict-o-quill incident. Not that he would have wanted that, for God's sake. It was Granger, he reminded himself. It was just because there was no one else to talk to, so that's why he came to… grudgingly accept their correspondence? Maybe even secretly enjoy it? Just a little bit?

Shaking his head to dispel the thoughts, he slipped the coin out of his pocket, running his finger around the rim.

 _/ You've been a lot on my mind lately. /_

His stomach dropped at those words. Suddenly, the memory of the dream he had had about her rushed back with force. His hands running over her delicate skin, her soft moans… He groaned. Why did he have to dream of her, of all people? Their past had been conflicted enough, and years ago, there had been a time when he had dreamt about her, too. Why could his subconscious just not let this go? And what did she mean when she wrote that he was on her mind – in what way?

The coin, still warm to the touch, heated up again.

 _/ You see, I have been working with the Visibilis spell for the last days, but there are some questions that still remain unanswered. I was wondering if there was a chance you had any knowledge about the practical use of the spell? /_

When he received the second part of her message, he was relieved. It _was_ relief he felt, he reassured himself, even if there might have been a twinge of disappointment. So this was the reason why he had been on her mind.

Still, the way she had worded the first part of her message led him to believe it had been intentionally misleading on her part. She had wanted him to read it that way. The thought left a tingle in his stomach that he tried to ignore and did not further pursue. Instead, he thought about her request.

He had, indeed, practiced the spell in his room. The first time he had used it, he had been sitting at his desk, deciding how to start and on a whim, had cast the spell on his linked parchment. The sight had made his head hurt. There had been countless, multicolored networks of delicate lines crisscrossing the parchment, mingling, interlinking, forming connections and pathways. They seemed to flow into each other, the lines branching into finer lines until barely visible to the eyes. It was impossible to tell where one spell started and the other ended. He had only been able to guess at the number of spells that had been embedded in the sheet. It was a formidable piece of charm work. Granger truly was an astounding witch.

Still, the breathtaking view of the network also left him with a very unsettling thought – when the network had already been this confusing on Granger's parchment, how much worse would it be on an artifact in which might be embedded hundreds of spells? How was he ever going to find out how to work that thing if he ever laid eyes on it?

Yet, there was no way to go but forward, so he had kept practicing the spell. After the overwhelming view of the parchment, he had started small, turning his quill green and then casting the spell on it. He had made progress, but it did not amount to much. Most of his time, he spend at the library, therefore, time to practice was scarce and he had not put all of his focus on discovering the workings of the spell yet.

Nevertheless, he was an experienced wizard and although Granger had not named the specifics of where exactly she had encountered problems with the spell, he could always give her some general advice.

Smirking, he touched his quill to the parchment.

* * *

Hermione held her breath as the coin heated up.

 _ **/ I have been thinking about you, too.**_ /

Oh Gods. Delicious tingles spread in her belly. She knew he was just teasing her by echoing her statement, but still – he had written those lines to her. Dark, sexy, snarky Snape was sitting somewhere in Bulgaria right now, his quill grasped between his slender, nimble fingers, his dark eyes focused on the parchment where he had just written to her that he had been thinking about her. Her heart pounded in her chest. What had he felt in that moment? Was there some part of him, buried deep inside, that actually missed her, too?

Before she could indulge further in such thoughts, her coin reheated.

 _ **/ You see, as I spend most of my day in the library, it leaves little time to explore the Visibilis spell. Considering that you have always been a terrible over-achiever in school, I figured you must have spent hours already applying the spell to any available subject, compiling a towering stack of meticulous notes detailing every possible aspect of your findings. /**_

Of course. She should have known.

 _ **/ To be able to help you with any resulting problems, I would first need to view your research. That being said, you should include in your speculations not only what type of spell was used on which type of matter as well as how much time has passed since the spell had been cast, but also the intention of the caster and his or her state of emotions at the time. /**_

Hermione could have slapped herself. Of course – how could she have neglected emotion and intent? It seemed so obvious now that he had pointed it out. Of course the mental state of the caster would play into how the spell would light up under _Visibilis_.

She was annoyed at herself for not coming to that conclusion by herself, and at the same time a little bit annoyed at Severus calling her a terrible over-achiever. She would put that emotion to good use, she told herself, pulling the mug on her desk closer and transfiguring it into a toaster again. Casting the _Visibilis_ spell next, she watched the network of lines light up. She noticed that the yellow sheen to the lines seemed a lot more solid than last time, when her emotions had not been in turmoil. Grumbling to herself, she pulled over her notes and added her observations.

* * *

Severus had thought she would reply instantly, but as hours ticked by, he wondered why she was not replying. When the coin finally heated up, he was relieved, which angered him in turn. She should not be affecting him in that way.

He sighed, taking out a fresh piece of parchment to jot down Granger's reply.

 _How matter displays the changes rendered by a variety of spells when Visibilis is cast on them_

So he had been right – she had spent an immense amount of time practicing the spell and compiling notes. The enormous title of her assembled notes promised yards of parchment.

 _All matter will display the influence of a spell with a network of lines, whose colors vary according to different factors. The network of lines moves in a slow trickle, yet the network on living matter will also pulsate in a rhythm which is again influenced by a multitude of factors…_

He finally understood why it had taken her hours to reply. She had found some information in his reply that she had needed, and instantly proceeded to examine the spell regarding her new insights. Then, she had probably rewritten her notes before sending him the whole thing. He groaned. Although he had asked for it, he had again underestimated the insane amount of effort she must have put into it. He'd probably be at it for hours.

Sighing, he took out his dict-o-quill and started it with a spell. He reclined in his chair, translating in his head and speaking the words out loud to the quill. She really had taken meticulous notes. He was switching the coin between hands when his fingertips started to get numb.

His mind started to drift off, translating on auto-pilot, when suddenly, the words slipping out of his mouth had him snap back to attention.

"A state of pleasurable excitement will increase the pulsing factor on a spell cast on living matter."

He paused, replaying the words in his mind. He could almost hear her throaty voice whisper 'pleasurable excitement'. She had obviously conducted the experiments herself, so what had she done to bring herself into a state of pleasurable excitement? His thoughts started to run wild before he could reign them in.

Instantly, he was swamped by a multitude of impressions from his dreams involving her creamy skin and her soft lips. A tingling started in the pit of his stomach, and for just a minute, he allowed himself to enjoy it, to just feel. Before he could be overwhelmed, though, he pushed the thoughts from his mind and employed his Occlumency skills to expel the wonderful queasy feeling from his body.

He rubbed his eyes and tried to focus on the task ahead, blinking his eyes and peering at the parchment to see where he had left off.

 _A state of pleasurable excitement will increase the pulsing factor on a spell cast on living matter._

 _Mmh… Hermione..._

What the fuck?! Snape stared at what the dict-o-quill had written on the parchment, clear evidence that he indeed must have uttered those words while lost in his thoughts. Fuck!

* * *

 **A/N: Mmh... Reviews...  
**

 **;)**


	29. Chapter 29

**A/N: I was very busy in RL, hence the long pause, but it was beautiful to see that this story is still being read and appreciated, thank you so much for the reviews! They worked! Here's a new chapter, and the plot is picking up again...**

* * *

Chapter 29

He couldn't believe the words on the parchment, but there they were. What was wrong with him? He picked up his quill and crossed out the last line, drawing tiny loops and wiggles over the letters until he could no longer make out her name. Not that it helped purging her from his mind, but at least the evidence had been erased.

He went back to work, translating the rest of her notes. When he read through them after he had finished, he realized that she had left out some information here and there, only referencing vaguely to the experiments she had conducted. It seemed she had used the _Visibilis_ spell in combination with two others to observe changes in the brain, but she had not provided more details.

He could only deduce from this that what he had received had not been her full notes, but a summary that she had written especially for him. He did not know what to make of that.

He gathered the notes and set to work, adjusting his experiments according to her findings.

* * *

A couple of hours later, there was a knock at the door. Severus froze, wand in hand and cast a silent _finite incantatem_ at the transfigured mug on his desk while he kept his eyes trained on the door.

No one knew that he was here. At least no one who wouldn't have let him know beforehand that they were coming. Slowly, silently, he made his way towards the door. Holding his breath, he softly rested his palm against the door and closed his eyes.

He sensed someone on the other side, someone whose magic held a dark nuance. Severus could guess who that might be. Holding his wand ready, he cracked open the door to reveal Doholov standing on the other side.

"Snape," he growled. "May I come in?"

He let the door swing open, and Dolohov pushed inside. His long, twisted face turned into a sneer as he swept his gaze over the few pieces of furniture. His burly frame seemed to shrink the room. Severus, closing the door silently, indicated one of the two armchairs and Dolohov settled himself into one. He did not speak until both were seated. Severus regarded him with a quirked eyebrow but otherwise bored expression.

"Snape. What a surprise to find you here in Varna."

"Indeed," Severus inclined his head, not giving anything away.

"What brings you here?"

"Research."

"About what?" Dolohov's eyes had taken on a strange glint.

"None of your business, I would say."

Dolohov leaned forward in his chair. "Maybe it is."

"Pray tell me, how did you come to that conclusion?"

"It is too big of a coincidence that you turn up here, of all places. Especially after word has been out that we were looking for you with a most lucrative offer. I think you have heard of those rumors and have come to find out what it is exactly that I have to offer."

Snape inclined his head again, conceding the point, but otherwise not replying.

They stared at each other, the tension in the room mounting.

Finally, Dolohov broke the silence. "My offer is this: In three days, I will come to this room to pick you up for a side-along apparition. We have a secret-kept house at our disposal where you will have your own rooms for the stay. You will have access to everything you will need for your research, but until you have finished, you will not leave or be in contact with other parties aside from the people living at the house. Aside from monetary endowments, you will also be granted access to whatever product you can procure using the artifact." He looked at Snape, trying to gauge his reaction, but Severus stony face gave nothing away.

"Who else is there?" Severus asked.

Dolohov grinned. "That, you will have to find out for yourself, Snape." He rose from his chair. "I will be back in three days at this precise time. If you are not here, I will presume you are not interested. But if you are, I then consider your next steps well. I want to point out that not everyone is going to trust you. We are well aware of your role as a double spy during the war, so we will take certain precautions. Be prepared."

With that, he opened the door and swept outside, leaving Severus to ponder about this new development.

* * *

Hermione sighed as she stepped out of the tub, completely relaxed after half an hour of stewing in hot water. The cold dungeon air had seeped into her bones and after her bath, she finally felt warm again.

Dressing herself in her pajamas, she picked up the coin that she had left next to the tub. She gasped as she felt the heat on her fingertips.

/ _OOP business: Dolohov has made contact. I am to meet with him in three days from now. I will have to proceed very carefully as he mentioned my role as a double spy. I will take the time to review my notes and practice the spells necessary to work with the artifact. I will give a last report before he comes to pick me up_. /

This was it. The next step.

Her stomach dropped as she considered the ramifications. For one, the light-hearted banter she had upheld with Severus would probably come to a swift stop. But what worried her more was that he would soon be in the constant presence of some of the most despicable human beings she had ever met. Who knows what they might do to him?

Her heart clenched in her chest. How she wished she could be there with him, but for now, all she had was the coin. That thought startled her out of her musings and she quickly sent an owl to Harry informing him of these new developments.

After the owl had disappeared into the night, Hermione slipped into her bed, trying to find some sleep but only tossing and turning in the end, all of her thoughts occupied with Severus. Finally, when she could bear it no longer, she rose and went to her desk, taking out her linked parchment.

She chewed on her lip, unsure what to write. Everything she could think of sounded wrong somehow, and did little to capture the message she was trying to convey. In the end, she settled on three simple words.

/ _Please be careful_. /

She watched the words slowly disappear, tracing her fingertips over the fading lines, wishing she could be touching him. With a sigh, she put it away and returned to bed, finally able to catch some of that elusive sleep.

* * *

 **A/N: So the story is going to pick up speed... reviews help! :)**


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